


The Seven Seas

by ZairaA



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Alternate Universe - Historical, First Time, M/M, Mpreg, Pirates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:15:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 37,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ZairaA/pseuds/ZairaA
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When pirate Captain Arthur Pendragon rescues a young man from the wreckage of a ship he admittedly sunk himself, he doesn't know he's just sealed his fate forever. Merlin is the most obnoxious loudmouth of a ship-boy Arthur has ever met, but he's also strangely intriguing. While the two exchange insults and keep saving each other's lives, they are inevitabley drawn to each other. The only problem: Merlin abhors nothing more than a pirate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Nightfox](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightfox/gifts).



> This fic is the fault of two people. Firstly scarlet_dove is to blame, because she came into PL chat telling me about this fest and about a prompt. A prompt she hadn't claimed because she had not read all the way down to the end of the list and now she was ripping her hair out. Me, having never written Mpreg and not having any intention of doing so now, but being the curious little bitch that I am, went to have a look at this mysterious prompt. I saw two things: Age of Sail (honestly, who could resist?) and the name of the prompter. Which brings me to the second lady at fault, the lovely Nightfox.
> 
> Dear Foxy, I hope this is at least to some degree what you had in mind. Seeing your prompt and seeing that it was _your_ prompt I couldn't resist claiming it. I hope I did it justice. Much love, this is for you.
> 
> A few more Thank You's: Always and forever a huge thank you goes out to my lovely beta, typewritertip, who's there with whip and sugar cubes when ever I need her. Another huge thank you goes to my wonderful cheerleader kitty_fic, who took on that job despite her busy schedule and who is one of the most kind, patient and enthusiastic persons I've had the pleasure to encounter. Thank you! I feel like I should also thank Hans Zimmer, the composer of the Pirates of the Caribbean Soundtrack. Lol. His music was very inspirational, and "One Day" became something like the inofficial hymn for this fic. ;)
> 
> A final thing about history and tall ships: I don't claim accuracy for either. I know a thing or two about sailing but my experiences are with much smaller boats. I kept my locations and time frame deliberately vague. So don't expect a history lesson here, this is for fun! ;)

_**~ Across The Seven Seas ~** _

_A Tale by Anon  
_

 

Captain Arthur Pendragon was probably one of the most unlikely pirates the whole of the seven seas had ever known. He was good-looking, for one, with his hair having turned a bright shade of gold from the sun and the salty breezes a long time ago, and his skin burned to a dark copper. He also still had a full set of impossibly white teeth and eyes that rivalled the stormy blue of the northern skies. He was said to be almost unreal, and that had soon turned him into a legend. Even more than his looks though, it was his demeanour that had given him his reputation and the moniker of “The King”. Rumours claimed that he was a bit of a bastard - but was showing mercy if he could and having manners if he wanted. He had a band of rogues gathered on his ship, the Excalibur, which was said to be unsinkable. The tales told of her captain and crew were those of fierce fighters standing brave in the face of battle, not the horror stories of rape and pillage and senseless slaughter men sailing under the Jolly Roger usually inspired. Threfore the name Arthur Pendragon alone made young ladies swoon and they secretly dreamed to be captured and ravished by the most noble and stalwart of the seafaring scoundrels.

At least that was what Merlin had heard over the last four years, and as a ship-boy on one of his majesty's most imposing frigates, he had had the perfect opportunity to catch all the gossip. But now, being faced with the famous captain himself, Merlin just wanted to find every single one of the starry-eyed lasses and the drunkenly serious lads and tell them what an utter pile of horse shite those stories were. Oh, the blond captain of the Excalibur was as handsome as they came, have no doubt, but in Merlin's opinion – which was one he never felt shy to speak – Captain Arthur Pendragon was a _prat_.

That fact though, that Merlin couldn't keep his gob shut, was actually the very reason he was in this current predicament, which had him in the brig, standing pressed to the main mast with his arms around it and his wrists shackled on the opposite side. The iron cuffs were chaffing his skin, but that was nothing compared to the smarting pain of flayed flesh that was his back. Still, all this quickly lost its significance because the main mast was the only one still standing, and the floor around Merlin's feet was quickly filling with water.

The imposing frigate, which had been his home for the past two years, was going down, ripped apart by the canons of the very ship they had been pursuing and which – by some clever underhanded tactics – had turned the tables on them, delivering a broadside that had nearly swept them off the swell in one go. Not that Merlin had witnessed much of it, seeing that he was just a tiny bit stuck and tethered. Young as he was though, Merlin had experienced enough encounters to know the sound of battle cries and rifles being fired, the dull noise of the grappling irons and the chaotic screams of being boarded.

That all had been superseded now by the groaning of wood and the crackle of fire, and Merlin knew that he had been forgotten. His only friend on board had been Gilli, the cook, and he probably had been captured if he wasn't floating dead in the sea. The only chance for Merlin was the main mast giving before the ship was flooded. But that stubborn, wooden bastard didn't seem to go anywhere fast, and so it looked like Merlin's luck had run out. It had to be some cruel cosmic joke that the shackles around his wrists were made from cold iron, preventing Merlin from using his magic the one time he really needed it.

It was around that time, when Merlin had just started to accept his fate of drowning, that he met Captain Arthur Pendragon - in the form of a blond head being stuck through the hatch and a too posh sounding British voice shouting, ''Anyone still in here, get the hell out. This ship is going down!''

Merlin rolled his eyes at the blond prat stating the obvious. ''I'd love to friend,'' he yelled back, ''But I'm attached to the ship!''

He could hear the frown in the man's voice as it was coming nearer, accompanied by the splashing sound of someone wading through water. ''Don't be an idiot, this ship will be gone in a a few minutes. I love my lady too, but there's no use dying for a pile of wood and tar.''

Merlin stuck his head from behind the mast, looking at the approaching man with incredulous eyes. ''Are you daft?'' he asked. ''I couldn't care less about the fate of this godforsaken nutshell, if it weren't for the fact that I'm _shackled to an integral part of it_.''

The man's eyes widened as he took in Merlin's position. ''Shite,'' he breathed and with a few strides he was right next to Merlin, his hands grabbing the shackles and giving them a grim, considering look. ''Don't worry,'' he said with a tight smile and barely a glance at Merlin. ''I'll get you out of here.''

''Yeah?'' Merlin asked, raising his eyebrows and looking around them, where the water was already at their waists by now. With the increasing weight, the ship was filling up faster and faster. ''And how will you do that, wonder boy?''

That finally got him the man's attention. ''You know, most people are a lot more appreciative when I rescue them from certain death,'' he said, somewhere between amusement and annoyance, before he pulled something from under his soaked shirt, something that was attached to a leather ribbon around his neck, and started to fiddle with the shackles.

''Yeah, well, I'll hold on to the gratitude until you've actually managed to do anything, if you don't mind,'' Merlin quipped, and Captain Pendragon - because Merlin was pretty sure that's who he was, there couldn't be all that many blond, Adonis-like and well-spoken pirates on the Excalibur – gave him a look between incredulity and outrage.

He continued to work furiously, cursing under his breath, while the water was starting to lap at their chests. It didn't give Merlin much to do but hold his breath and keep his fingers crossed, and so he had some time to study the infamous pirate of legends. He didn't look so special, Merlin thought, with the much-praised hair plastered to his forehead, making him look like a drowned rat. He had to admit though that the man's eyes were an incredible shade of blue, like the waters of the Southern Seas.

Just as Merlin had the silly thought that Captain Pendragon's mouth looked incredibly kissable, the way he was worrying that plush bottom lip with his teeth, there was a shout of triumph and the shackles gave way, releasing his throbbing wrists. The sudden loss of support made Merlin's knees buckle and he went under, spluttering, salt water rushing into his nose and mouth and ears. He flailed around in panic until a strong hand grabbed his upper arm and hauled him up above the water's surface. Or what little was left of that.

''You're a lot more trouble than you're worth, I'm sure,'' Captain Pendragon muttered, dragging Merlin behind him with one hand, while he was pushing them along the ceiling with his other, back to the hatch leading to the upper level. ''Can you swim?'' he asked, somewhat hopeful but resigned.

Merlin looked at him like he was crazy. ''No of course not, why the hell would I learn such a thing?''

Captain Pendragon raised an eyebrow at him, and Merlin had to concede that in their current predicament such a skill might have come in handy, but it wasn't as if it was a common one. The blond pirate didn't say anything on that regard though and just kept his almost painful grip on Merlin's arm. He pulled Merlin through the hatch with the last of the air and an onrush of water bubbling up after them. Then he pushed him towards the stairs that led to the upper deck.

''Get up there and over to the gunwale,'' he shouted, ''We have to get off this wreck before it drags us down with it.''

Merlin scrambled up the slippery wooden steps, but he was weak from the flogging he'd received and his body didn't seem willing or able to follow his command. The water was quicker than him, already lifting him up and pushing him towards the top of the stairs, aided by an impatient hand from below. They scampered and slithered over the deck that in a fit of chance was only slanting a little, and then Captain Pendragon clambered up on the side of the ship, holding on to the shrouds with his left and reaching out to Merlin with his right.

''What's your name lad?'' he shouted, and Merlin grabbed his hand, and then he was lifted, pulled up single-handedly, until he could clutch the other man's shoulder for support.

''Merlin,'' he gasped, and the captain nodded at him grimly.

''I'm Arthur,'' he said, ''and when I tell you to, you're going to push upwards and then you'll hold on to my neck and nothing else and try to kick as little as possible. Understood?''

Merlin nodded, feeling light-headed with fear.

''Then wrap your arms around my neck.''

Merlin did, staring into those incredibly blue eyes with his heart beating like mad.

''Ready?''

''Yeah.''

And then that bastard _smirked._

''Push!''

Arthur watched the boy – or, well, maybe he should rather call him a young man – sleep in Lancelot's bed. It was a common enough occurrence that the ship's doctor surrendered his bed to an injured comrade, so Arthur told himself that there really was no reason for him to feel jealous. The young man had been asleep for a whole day and then some, but Lancelot had assured him that, after the bad flogging he seemed to have endured just moments before the battle and the spell of nearly drowning in the wreckage of his ship, it was entirely reasonable and nothing to worry about.

They had taken ten other prisoners from the British vessel, eight of which Arthur had just abandoned on an island. It was uninhabited but frequently laid by ships of all flags since it was one of the few sources of fresh water in the region. The other two prisoners - womenfolk who Gwaine had found huddled in the Captain's cabin - Arthur had kept on board. The Lady Vivian was the daughter of an admiral and would be worth a pretty ransom. She and her maid Gwen were treated like favoured guests, even if Arthur was pretty sure the Admiral wouldn't be willing to pay so much as a shilling for Gwen's life and integrity.

The young man Arthur had rescued from the brig was apparently called Merlin Emrys and was the ship's boy. If Gwen was to be believed – and she seemed like a kind and honest soul – he was a cheeky but clever and hard-working fellow, who more often than not got a beating for his efforts. Arthur had met a few of his sort: sons of poor families or right-out orphans who had no other prospect than finding a place on a ship of his Majesty's Royal Navy. They worked from sunrise till dusk, were paid nothing but board and lodge and end up the boot boy for the whole of the crew. Arthur had been able to witness Merlin's insolence in person, but he had to admit that the boy had been brave in the face of mortal danger and in the end, when it had mattered, he had obeyed Arthur's every word. He could always use a man like him in his crew.

That fact and Merlin's injuries alone had been the reason Arthur had not put him into the boat with the other crewmen. No matter what knowing looks his men gave him, it had absolutely nothing to do with any sort of attraction on Arthur's part. Merlin was a skinny lad, a loudmouth and probably barely had started to grow hair on his balls. And if Arthur was spending more time than usual in Lance's cabin, it was only to monitor the boy's health, and most definitely not to ogle his impossibly sharp cheekbones, the long black lashes or the ridiculous ears.

Just when Arthur had decided that it was probably better to get back to his own cabin to not feed any idiotic rumours, the boy snuffled, wrinkling his nose in the most stupidly adorable way, before he froze and then bolted upright, looking around with wide, worried eyes. It took him a moment, but when he found Arthur leaning in the doorway his face grew grim, the sweet mouth turning into a scowl.

''You,'' he said, managing to make the one word sound like the worst accusation.

''Me,'' Arthur said, unable to hide his amusement. ''Your saviour, so to speak.''

Merlin scoffed. ''I wouldn't have needed any saving if you and your men hadn't shot the ship to pieces.''

''And here I thought I would finally see some gratitude,'' Arthur sighed dramatically. Then he turned serious. ''Shoot or be shot, lad. I don't like it either, but what was I supposed to do? Just let them capture me?''

''You made that choice when you became a pirate, didn't you?'' Merlin sneered at him. ''So don't insult me by telling me how you feel bad about it.''

Thoughtfully, Arthur studied the glaring man in the bed in front of him, the white bandages adorning his skin. He was feisty, he had to give him that, and that wasn't a bad trait in a sailor – at least not in Arthur's book. So he tilted his head in mocking acknowledgement.

''I guess you've got me there. But I feel like you of all people should know that there are good reasons a man might choose to step outside the king's law.''

''What's that supposed to mean?'' the lad asked, eyeing Arthur suspiciously.

Arthur tilted his chin forwards. ''Your back had been pretty thoroughly mangled when I found you. If such a thing isn't properly taken care of, infection will settle in and kill you in the space of a week. Let me guess... spoke out of turn?''

He smirked when the boy's scowl deepened, and took a few steps forward, leaning against Lance's desk. ''Well your ship is on the bottom of the sea, _Mer_ lin. Your captain's dead – which is no great loss from what I heard – and your shipmates have been abandoned.''

The boy's eyes widened, whether caused by the recapitulation of recent events or the use of his given name Arthur couldn't tell, but he nevertheless continued.

''You've been brave on the ship and not too much of a nuisance, and so I'll give you the chance to decide your own fate.'' Arthur looked at the boy seriously, willing him to understand what he was offering. ''Join my crew. We could use a lad like you. And I can promise you there won't be any more abuse, you'll get your fair share of the spoils and, if one day you feel it's time for an early retirement, there will be no questions asked, and no offence taken.''

It was a generous offer, one Arthur wasn't making lightly, but from the outrage and contempt in Merlin's eyes, looking at Arthur like he was the devil reincarnated, he got the uncanny feeling that he would be denied.

''Well... thank you ever so, _Captain_ ,'' Merlin predictably spat a second later, ''but I think I'd rather rot in hell than join the ranks of a filthy pirate!''

It seemed, Arthur mused, he would have his work cut out with this one.

~*~

That was how Merlin ended up shackled in the brig again. Arthur was distraught about it – or so he assured Gwen when she came and accused him of being no better than the rest of his trade – but he couldn't let a man run free on his ship, not when said man obviously felt more than a little malicious towards him and his crew. Never mind how much the lad seemed a straightforward soul, Arthur's first duty was to his ship and crew and he couldn't risk sabotage.

He still hadn't given up entirely on recruiting Merlin for his crew though, and he had to admit it puzzled him why the young man held on to his belief in the righteousness and nobility of the officers sailing under the Union Jack as tightly as a drowning man to the plank, when his very own experiences should have taught him differently.

Arthur knew better than most that good men could be found in all trades and places, but the class system integral to His Majesty's Royal Navy had always repelled him. He had seen it from early childhood, how good men were stuck in the low while incompetent bootlickers and men with the right parentage made up the ranks. He had been twelve when he'd asked his father why the positions of officers were not awarded because of skill rather than family name, and he had gotten a beating for his insolence and inappropriate conduct.

But the truth was that Captain Arthur Pendragon had been a Navy man himself. It was a story not many people knew about - that Arthur had been born into aristocracy and a family that had the Navy in their blood like normal people had breath in their lungs. He'd been fourteen when he joined his first crew as an ensign, still wet behind his ears but eager to prove his worth – to his father as much as to himself.

He had risen quickly through the ranks, and at nineteen he was made First Officer - against the will of the Captain of the ship he'd been assigned to. The man was a cruel and obstinate bastard, who had more use for the whip than he had for the sextant. He wouldn't listen to Arthur's advice in regard to anything, least of all battle tactics and it nearly cost them all their lives. Had Arthur not – in the heat of combat and while the Captain was whimpering frozen with fear in his cabin – taken command and that way saved the ship, all would have been lost. The Captain had him court martialed for his efforts though, arguing that Arthur had disobeyed direct orders.

When he had then ordered the men, whose only crime had been to follow Arthur's command, to be punished as well, Arthur had not been able to watch. He had made a decision that had maybe been long coming and that had changed the course of his life forever. Arthur committed mutiny, stole the ship and abandoned the Captain and what was left of his loyal crew on a longboat half a day from the nearest port.

That day Arthur Pendragon became an outlaw, a pirate and – later – a legend. And he had never looked back. Not once.

~*~

In the next few days Arthur felt a strange intrigue, which pulled him towards the brig on more than one occasion, even though Merlin seldom treated him to more than insults and accusations. Arthur had no idea why he put himself through it, but he had to admit Merlin's insolent demeanour and quick-witted remarks entertained him - when such things normally were pretty hard to come by in the day to day regimen of sea travel.

What irked Arthur though was that while he knew Merlin was a good man, the other man refused to see Arthur himself as anything but. He had no idea why it mattered so much to him. Arthur never had felt any need for recognition, at least once he outgrew the need to earn his father's approval, but Merlin was a special case. And it wasn't even because Arthur was attracted to him – something that by now seemed pretty redundant to deny.

So that afternoon found Arthur once more sitting on a pile of tightly lashed crates after he had taken the plate of stew from Elena's hands to deliver it to their prisoner himself. Merlin was eating with the same ravenous eagerness he always showed, and Arthur just sat with one leg pulled up and lazily watched.

''You really can't have had much experience with pirates,'' Arthur said after a while, ''Or you would appreciate the royal treatment you are getting a lot more.''

Merlin raised an eyebrow at him. ''To what are you referring? The food is alright - and please send my regards to the cook - but the company is definitely lacking.''

Arthur widened his eyes in mock-outrage. ''You're having the Captain's dinner, Merlin! You should feel so proud...'' He shook his head in disappointment.

''Yeah?'' Merlin replied acidly. ''That how you treat the women too? Have them shackled at your dining table? Or is it your bed you have them shackled to?''

Arthur rolled his eyes and jumped down from the crates. ''Oh, get off your high horse, the ladies are treated all properly,'' he scoffed. But when Merlin gave him one of his sceptical and condescending looks, he couldn't help but feel affronted for his men as much as for himself, and he grew serious.

''Look, it might surprise you, but being a bit of a scoundrel doesn't actually decrease your chances with the womenfolk, yeah? The lads have their fair share of willing ladies and, if they don't find one, there are places where they can take their urges and get it scratched in exchange for a hard coin.''

''Whore houses, now there's a surprise,'' Merlin sneered, disgust evident in his voice.

''Hey,'' Arthur admonished him, ''don't shun the ladies. It's an honest profession, no shame in it.''

''Honest profession? You think those women want to spread their legs for you?''

Arthur narrowed his eyes. The boy was starting to piss him off. ''I'll have you know that I've never been reduced to taking from a woman what wasn't willingly offered, and I always made it worth her while.'' He gave Merlin a calculating look. ''And the same goes for any boy I might have tumbled.''

His suspicion was confirmed when Merlin blushed deep red from his neck to the roots of his floppy hair and his rather prominent ears. And it wasn't just the blush of being confronted with the fact that men might lie with men, it was the blush of helpless mortification and self-disgust. _A boot boy alright_ , Arthur thought grimly, but he turned his voice gentle when he said, ''If that's your worry, lad, I can assure you that I don't allow that kind of behaviour on my ship. The men sort themselves out, but if they take up with each other it is consensual or it will be stopped.''

''You want me to take the word of a pirate on that?'' Merlin spat, and Arthur bristled.

He knew the boy was probably embarrassed, knowing that Arthur had guessed on what kind of treatment he had to take, but Arthur had never been able to take a slight to his honour well, and so he growled, ''If you haven't learned yet that the honour of a man isn't attached to a fancy title and a powdered wig, I obviously over-estimated your intelligence.''

He pulled himself up to his full height, looking down at Merlin contemptuously. ''I guess you're not cut out for sailing with a crew like mine after all,'' he said, turning away. ''We'll be in Port St. James in five days time and we'll hand over the ladies for an agreed upon ransom then. You may go with them.'' He stopped in the doorway to the brig, but didn't turn around. ''And you can keep your gratitude for that one to yourself as well.''

~*~

Arthur didn't stop by the brig the next day or the one after that. He let Elena bring Merlin his food, and if his men thought it unusual that he kept stomping around the ship, barking orders and more often than not jumping into the fray if something wasn't done fast enough for his likes, they knew better than to mention it.

Arthur himself didn't know what had him more furious: the way Merlin refused to see him as anything else than a _dirty pirate,_ who in his eyes apparently _had no honour_ , or the way it seemed to throw Arthur out off kilter. Captain Arthur Pendragon was known to keep a cool head in any situation. He had a temper alright, and he didn't hold his tongue, but he didn't lose control. Least of all he would ever be ruled by his emotions. Merlin though, Merlin did things to him he couldn't fathom. And while he didn't like it, he wasn't able to shake it off however much he tried.

~*~

The storm came after the second day. It was at night, and when the first squall hit them, throwing the ship into an imbalance, Arthur tumbled out of bed and rolled over the floor before he could catch hold of his desk. He'd spent the better part of his life sailing the high seas, and so he didn't stop to take stock of any damage to himself or his possessions, but sprang up when the ship rightened itself and scrambled out the door and up the steps to the main deck. His first mate, Leon, came running up to him out of the darkness, and that was when then next squall hit them and all hell broke loose.

''Get the sails down, only keep the stay sails!'' Arthur shouted over the howling of the storm. ''And get me Percival at the helm! Send Lancelot to look out for the ladies and tell him I don't want to see him up here!''

''Aye, Captain!''

''And Leon? When you have the sails rigged, I only want a skeleton crew up here and you go below deck too!''

Although Arthur could hardly see it in the dark, he knew Leon was glaring at him. But one of them had to stay safe, and Arthur was needed on deck, because there simply was no other who could sail the Excalibur like Arthur. It was his ship, and sometimes it was almost as if the ship knew it, yielded to him and wanted to feel his hands on her wheel.

''Aye!'' Leon grit out and then started shouting orders at the men.

''One hand for you, one for the ship!'' Arthur yelled as the lads scrambled up the shrouds. ''I don't have time to fish you out of the water!''

They probably didn't hear him, and Arthur could only hope that he had drilled it into their stubborn heads often enough so that they would not risk more than necessary now. The truth was that anyone who went aboard in this weather had to be considered lost, and Arthur hated nothing more than losing one of his own.

Percival had taken the helm already when Arthur made it up to the stern. He wasn't the most skilled steersman of Arthur's crew, but he was the one with the most brawn, and Arthur could trust him to hold the wheel where he directed it. Arthur gave the giant of a man a nod, and took the helm while Percival held the wheel from the other side. They were both tethered down to its base, so they couldn't be washed overboard by the huge breakers that were coming over the side to drench them. Arthur steered with iron will and Percival’s arms bulged as he tried to hold the wheel fast.

The storm grew stronger and stronger though, and Arthur had to realise that they wouldn't make it that way. The squalls were forcing the ship down until it was almost horizontal and they couldn't get close enough to the wind to keep her steady.

''It's no use!'' Arthur yelled, trying to shake the hair, which was plastered to his face by now, out from his eyes. ''We have to run off!''

Percival's eyes widened. ''Captain?''

''I know. But it's our only chance.''

Turning the stern into the wind and running off with the storm in your back was a risky manoeuvre. It would be essential that Arthur held her upright to the approaching waves with only the rudder and no sails to steer, and it wasn't as if he had a clear bearing, or could actually see anything in the dark, he would have to do this by the seat of his britches.

''Tell the lads to get the stay sails down, and send someone up here to throw out the lines to slow her down,'' Arthur told a worried looking Percival, and it was a sign for the kind of crew Arthur had, that he didn't so much as blink before he acknowledged Arthur's orders.

''Aye, Captain.''

Percival gave him a grim nod, and then Arthur was alone with his ship and the storm and the sea. He started to ease the Excalibur around, and she came willing, falling off the wind, but he had to be careful to catch her at the right moment without over-steering. The Excalibur was sleek and fast, but in a storm like this her lower weight could be a disadvantage. Still, Arthur noted with a feeling of joyful pride how she followed his every calibration, almost as if she wanted to please him.

A lesser sailor might have panicked or lost his orientation, but Arthur had weathered storms before, and he remained calm and stubbornly defied the howling winds and crashing waves, his hands steady on the wheel.

Then the yard sail of the main mast came down, with boom and half the rigging, nearly striking Arthur down as it swung over the deck like a huge pendulum before the rest of the halyards gave and it went over board, taking half the taffarel behind him with it. Arthur just had the time to catch his breath, and thank his luck for the narrow escape when he realised that the wheel didn't move any longer, no matter how much force he put into it. That could only mean one thing; the rudder was blocked.

They were doomed.

For a second or two Arthur was frozen with horrified disbelief. Being disabled and adrift in a storm was every sailors worst nightmare. There was nothing you could do, the ship and your destiny out of your control. The waves were piling up and the storm was almost making him blind and deaf by now, and Arthur knew that without the rudder they would be tossed about by the waves like a nutshell. He looked up into the rigging of his majestic lady; the words he had spoken to Merlin only a few days ago coming back to haunt him.

_I love my lady too, but there's no use dying for a pile of wood and tar._

But, oh, the Excalibur was so much more than that - one of the fastest ships on the seven seas, quick to respond and sturdy to hold. Arthur had captured her on her maiden voyage from a captain who had nearly run her aground, and it had been love at first sight. It was like the ship had been made just for him. Still, an even greater treasure was Arthur's crew, and it was them he had to think of before all else.

Arthur tried again with all his strength, but the wheel wouldn't budge. With his blood running cold like ice-water, he slipped out of the rope that held him to the steering wheel and climbed down to the lower gun deck. He caught Leon as he passed by him, only rising his eyebrow at his first mate's insubordination before he pulled him below deck.

''The rudder is blocked,'' Arthur said, turning towards Leon, wiping the water out of his eyes. He swallowed hard, but then he said it. ''The ship's lost. Sooner or later she'll not be able to withstand and get turned broadside to the waves. You know as well as I do what's gonna happen then.'' He looked into Leon's shocked face, knowing it might well be the last time he saw his friend. ''I'm afraid it's every man for himself now.''

Leon was a levelheaded man, that's why Arthur had made him first mate. He grabbed Arthur's arm, and stared him in the face, but after a second he just gave him a nod and said, ''It was an honour to serve you, Captain.''

''The honour was mine,'' Arthur replied seriously and, with another nod, turned on his heel and went down further into the innards of his ship

With the Excalibur lost and the crew preparing for capsize, Arthur had only one thing left to do. He knew it might be redundant, but he would give every man on this ship a fair chance however slim it might be. When he came into the brig, Merlin was hanging onto his shackles, his face ghostly white with fear in the glow of the oil lamp.

''What's wrong with you?'' he barked, as soon as he saw Arthur. ''Why aren't you up there commanding your ship? Can't you tell she's turning broadside!? What kind of sailor are you?''

Arthur gave himself a second to look at the young man, so clearly afraid and still brave enough to read him the riot act.

''I'm sorry,'' he said, because he was. He was sorry for so many things, for not being able to save the ship, and Merlin with it. For not having been able to prove himself to this intriguing young man, when he had never wanted to prove himself to anyone but himself for the last ten years. For never having kissed those enticing lips, while burying his hands in those unruly black locks that curled around too big ears.

Then Arthur thought, _to hell with it._ He put the lamp down and stalked forwards, grabbing Merlin's head with both his hands. He just had the time to think that Merlin's hair felt as soft as it looked; then he pulled the boy close, hesitating for only the fraction of a second before he dived in and crushed their lips together. The kiss was hungry and greedy and demanding - because if this was the one time Arthur would have him, if this was to be the last thing he'd do in his life before drowning in the deep waters of the stormy sea, Arthur would damn well make it count.

Merlin remained the barrel of contradictions he had always been, becoming stiff as a board only to push into the kiss like a drowning man breaking through the surface, then pushing Arthur off with all the strength he could master. Arthur stumbled a few steps back, wiping his forearm over his mouth, where Merlin had drawn blood.

''What... what was that about?'' Merlin spat, looking betrayed and confused.

Even if Arthur had been willing to explain, there was no time for that. ''The Excalibur is going down. So I'll take off your shackles, even if I don't know how much it will help you since you can't swim and...'' He briefly closed his eyes and swallowed, but then came forward and started to open the irons on Merlin's wrists. He didn't look at him when he told him, ''Try to tether yourself to something big and floatable. Maybe that way you'll stand a chance.'' He looked up at Merlin when the last shackle dropped. ''I'm sorry,'' he said. ''For all of it. I wish we had met under better circumstances, but for what it's worth: good luck.''

He turned, but Merlin grabbed his arm and held him back. ''Wait!'' he said. ''I can... if you tell me what's the problem, I can help you save the ship.''

Arthur whipped around, staring at the boy before him in disbelief. ''What?''

''I can help you save the ship,'' Merlin repeated the most absurd words Arthur had ever heard, and he looked so earnest it would have been funny in any other circumstances.

''Really? You think you know more about sailing a ship like the Excalibur than I do?'' he scoffed.

Merlin scowled. ''Guess you'll have to trust me, what do you have to lose?''

Nothing much, Arthur had to admit, and although it was against his better judgement, he grit out, ''The rudder is blocked.'' He raised his eyebrows mockingly. ''Well? Want to tell me how to steer a ship without a rudder _or_ sails?''

Merlin's eyes had widened when Arthur told him the mess they were in, but now his face looked determined, and it was almost a command when he said, ''Take me up to the stern!''

Arthur narrowed his eyes, and Merlin's somehow softened. ''You'll have to trust me, Arthur,'' he said.

And Arthur had to realise, to his own astonishment, that he did. He had no idea why he held out his hand, to steady Merlin on the rocking ship probably or to not have him get lost, but Merlin took it and together they stumbled up the stairs.

They came up on deck when the ship finally made good on Arthur's prediction and turned with the waves, starting to tilt portside. Arthur tried to catch the doorframe, but Merlin had already lost his footing, and he dragged Arthur with him as they slithered over the wet planks towards the gunwale. All Arthur could see was the sea coming up at them in a torrent of black and foam, and then Merlin was in the water, gasping and desperately trying to find a hold, while Arthur had one hand around one of the buntlines and the other held on to Merlin with a death grip.

For an eternity they hung there, between the ship and the sea, between life and death, Merlin clawing at the slippery wood of the planks while he stared up at Arthur with horrified, helpless eyes. All Arthur could do was stare back, straining with all his might to not let go of Merlin's wet hand that was slowly slipping out of his own.

Then the ship rightened itself again, and Merlin was pulled aboard. For a moment Arthur just sagged there, against the side of his ship, with Merlin next to him, trembling and wheezing. Arthur couldn't feel his arm or his legs or any integral part of his body, only Merlin's hand in his own that, thankfully, was still there.

''Come on,'' Merlin gasped after a moment. ''She can't take much more!''

 _Neither can you,_ Arthur thought, but he let himself be dragged up by Merlin with more strength than Arthur would have deemed possible in such a skinny lad, both of them holding on to the gunwale and trying to catch their breaths.

''Yeah. Okay.'' Arthur coughed and gave Merlin a determined nod. ''Let's do this.''

He still had no idea what Merlin thought he could do, but Arthur simply had to believe they stood a chance. It couldn't end here, not like this. Not when he could still feel the elation of victory singing in his blood of having wrested the boy from the heaving darkness of the sea just now. What was the sense in saving Merlin when they were all going to drown anyway?

They climbed up to the stern, Arthur behind Merlin, so that he could grab him if the slighter man should fall, and then Merlin scrambled to what was left of the taffarel, looking down into the roaring sea.

''Can you hold her if I get the rudder free?'' he yelled over his shoulder.

''Of course I can! But how would you-?''

And then Arthur was staring at Merlin, speechless and shocked and maybe just a little bit frightened. Because Merlin had his arms raised up, his eyes burning golden in the dark, and he just stood there with his legs apart as strong and self-assured as if they were in a calm and not a tempest.

The wheel suddenly came loose, and Arthur grabbed it instinctively. He turned the ship back before the storm and held her there, trying not to think about Merlin who was still somewhere behind him, doing things Arthur couldn't believe nor understand. It was impossible of course, Arthur's mind was reeling with the implications, with the sheer inconceivability of it, because what Merlin had been doing... it sure had looked like... like _magic._ And that couldn't be, because magic wasn't real.

Arthur's first duty was to the ship and his crew though, and he couldn't think about Merlin when he had to concentrate on outwitting the storm and keeping his ship afloat. It didn't matter what Merlin had done, or how incredibly beautiful he had looked while doing it, because whatever else, he was the Captain of the Excalibur first.

He fought to keep the ship steady, but the storm was tricky and the waves unpredictable. He could barely see a thing through the water that came at him from all directions, and the winds that became stronger and stronger. The Excalibur was gathering too much speed even with the blank rigging, and Arthur's heart filled with dread again. If the ship kept going like this, they were likely to topple over. It was as if the gods were conspiring against them.

''Come on, girl, slow down!'' Arthur muttered.

''What's wrong?''

Suddenly Merlin stood before him, drenched to the bone and shivering. Arthur cursed, because that boy obviously had no common sense. ''Tie that around your waist, will you?'' Arthur called, indicating the rope Percival had used a while ago. ''I don't want to have to fish you out of the water again.''

''You didn't fish me out of the water, the ship did!'' Merlin countered, but he tethered himself before he gave Arthur a searching look. ''Honestly though, what's the problem now?''

''We're too fast,'' Arthur explained with gritted teeth. ''If we crash into the wave before us we'll keel over the head.''

Merlin looked at him alarmed. ''What... what do you normally do to stop that?''

''There are lines, long heavy ropes, we throw them over board and trail them after the ship, but if they're not enough-''

Arthur grimaced, but Merlin's expression had turned to something between excitement and determination.

''I can do that!'' he said, and then he screwed his eyes shut, his body tense like a coiled spring. When he opened them they were glowing again, but now he was right in front of Arthur and there was no mistaking it. His irises were burning with a secret fire, unnatural and fantastic, and Arthur couldn't turn his eyes away from it.

A sudden jolt went through the ship then, and she settled her rear deeper into the water.

''What did you do?'' Arthur hissed, unsure whether to be relieved or worried.

''Turned the end of the lines into stone, so they'll be heavier.''

Arthur gaped, trying to comprehend what Merlin was saying. Getting a stuck rudder free with wishful thinking was one thing, turning rope into solid stone was quite another. Whatever Merlin had done though seemed to help because the Excalibur lost speed, but that didn't mean they were out of the woods by a long shot. Arthur still had to steer her exactly right – a feat that not many sailors even dared to attempt - and the storm showed no sign of slowing down.

It might have been hours, although to Arthur it felt like it were days; time became meaningless as the world was trying to come to an end around them. In the pitch black of the howling storm, the icy salt water drenching them and the winds ripping at them, it was just him and Merlin, staring at each other with the wheel between them. Arthur could barely feel the wood under his frozen hands by then, and Merlin looked like the ghost of a drowned boy, but he stayed, right there with Arthur, for what ever reason he couldn't fathom.

Arthur tried to concentrate on that, on Merlin's face before him, the stubborn, determined tilt of his chin quite familiar, but in the end the strain started to become too much. He couldn't feel his limbs anymore, and he had to literally force himself to keep his eyes open and his mind on the task. He should probably tell the boy to run and bring one of his men up here, Leon or Percival or Gwaine, but his mouth and tongue seemed unable to form any words, his brain becoming sluggish.

Just when Arthur thought he couldn't go on for another second, when he realised that he would have to surrender, Merlin took his hands where they were still clutching tightly around the wheel. He looked at Arthur with an unreadable expression, and suddenly Arthur was flooded with feelings of warmth and strength and confidence. It should not have been possible, but it felt as if looking into Merlin's golden eyes was giving Arthur his true bearing; they were like a fire beacon in the dark, leading you safely through the storm and into port.

Much later, Arthur would determine that – far from being safe - this had actually been the point he became lost. That Merlin's presence had been like a siren call leading him astray. Because right there, in that moment, and completely unbeknown to him, Captain Arthur Pendragon fell in love.

Merlin didn't know what had made him grab Arthur's hands. Okay, so maybe that was a lie. He had seen Arthur losing the fight, had seen his death grip on the steering wheel and the determination in his eyes. He had no idea what kept Arthur upright, but there he was, holding on in the chaos of the storm. It had not been a conscious decision on Merlin's part, more an undeniable instinct with his body almost acting on its own volition, because suddenly all Merlin had wanted was to keep Captain Arthur Pendragon safe. The storm, the roaring waters, the cold, it all had muted and drifted away as he had reached out for Arthur, had took the icy hands and let his magic go.

And his magic had curled around Arthur as if he was the most precious thing in the world. He was a pirate, the captain of a pirate ship, which made him the worst kind of man - but Merlin's magic seemed to disagree. And Merlin couldn't help but look into those fierce eyes, which had their sight not on gold and glory, but on saving his ship and her crew, on saving Merlin. Even when he thought everything was lost, Arthur Pendragon had not let him go.

The storm abated. Slowly the waves became gentler and the wind waned. The Excalibur was battered but not defeated, and neither was her captain. The blond man sagged against the wheel, his hair fluttering in the wind and his knuckles bloody, but he still didn't let go. Merlin was exhausted too, but he managed to pry the pirate's hands from the steering wheel and to gently guide him to the ground.

''You have magic,'' Arthur mumbled with his eyes half-closed, and for a moment Merlin's throat tightened up.

''Yeah,'' he whispered.

''It's-.... it's beautiful.''

Merlin breath caught, but Arthur's eyes had closed already and he appeared to have fallen into the much longed-for slumber, knowing that he had brought them all to safety.

 _You are beautiful,_ Merlin wanted to tell him, but exhaustion took its toll, and so Merlin just laid his head down next to Arthur's and fell asleep.

~*~

The storm had carried them a long way off course and, after Arthur determined their position, he had them set what was left of the Excalibur's sails, heading for an island that apparently was on none of the official maps. They reached it a day later and cast their anchor in a hidden bay, shielded from the surf. Merlin had to admit that it had the air of a small paradise. The waters were calm and almost turquoise in their colour; gentle waves lapping onto a white beach with lush greenery that provided shade and lent them material to repair what the storm had broken.

Arthur decided that they would stay for a few days, fixing the ship as well as refreshing their water supplies, and the crew quickly went to work. Merlin had not been shackled again; apparently helping him guide his ship through the storm had earned Merlin the trust of Captain Pendragon.

Yes, Merlin tried, with all his determination, to think of him like this, as a pirate – not as Arthur. Because he _was_ a pirate, and to Merlin there had never been anything worse, more despicable, than that. Pirates were the worst kind of criminals. They didn't give a damn about laws or morals or human grace. They were nefarious and cruel in their deeds, and cold-blooded and devious in their demeanour. Merlin had vowed to fight them, every way he could, when he was nothing more than a boy.

The problem was that the crew of the Excalibur didn't match Merlin's imagination – and their captain was leading the way. Since Merlin had been released from the brig, the men had begun to treat Merlin like one of their own instead of a prisoner, putting him to work, clapping him on the shoulder, and handing him his share of the rum. Merlin didn't quite know what to make of it. He was glad to be able to roam freely, but his answer – if anyone had asked him – was still the same: He'd rather die than become a pirate. Unfortunately, no one did ask him, and the more time Merlin spent with the crew, the harder it became to not like them.

There was Leon, Arthur's first mate, a tall guy with a full head of bright copper locks and a friendly grin. He had put Merlin on light duty since he was still not fully recovered from his injuries, which gave Merlin the slightly uncomfortable feeling that he was lazing about since he never had such an easy job before. Then there was the ship's doctor, Lancelot, who had taken care of his wounds. He was a gentle, well-spoken man, who seemed to have been taken captive by Guinevere, the Lady Vivian's maid, but did nothing more than give her sweet and shy smiles, while tripping over his own feet, trying to ensure she had everything she could wish for. There was Percival, a giant of a man, who was mostly silent but took what ever Merlin was carrying from him with a smile and a nod, and Gwaine who kept plying him with the rum bottle and told him stories about their ploys and adventures that were even more outrageous than anything Merlin had heard before, and made him snort with laughter.

And then there was Arthur. Incredibly gorgeous, haughty and brave Arthur, who kept saving Merlin's life. He could be a bastard, and infuriating, but he treated the ladies with the uttermost respect and decorum. And while his demeanour was arrogant and demanding, Merlin had to realise that he was a good captain, that he inspired loyalty in his men, and was generous when he could afford it.

With Merlin on the other hand he acted like the prat he had first come to see in him, insulting Merlin and mocking him, only to then give him a fond smile and ruffle his hair, which left Merlin confused and unsettled and made his ears burn brightly. In the end, Captain Arthur Pendragon was an enigma and, to Merlin's endless horror, he felt more and more intrigued by him, wanting to solve that puzzle and find the man under the bluster.

~*~

A few days passed, and Arthur – Captain Pendragon - had given those crewmen who had already accomplished their allocated tasks leave to explore the island or enjoy themselves on the shore – a freedom Merlin had never experienced under any command, but that appeared to be norm rather than exception with the crew of the Excalibur.

Arthur himself though had not yet set a foot on the island, choosing to stay on the ship instead to oversee and direct the repairs. To Merlin's surprise, this would more often than not end with him mucking in along his men, something Merlin surely never had witnessed from any other captain. Right now he was apparently helping to attach the new boom, and Merlin couldn't keep his eyes away, watching mesmerized as the pirate captain climbed up to the top of the main mast, clad in nothing but his boots and close-fitting britches.

Merlin didn't know where this tight feeling in his chest was coming from, he had never felt anything like it before, but the way the sun lit up Arthur's blond hair and gleamed on the plains of his incredibly broad chest made Merlin's heart flutter and his own britches grow uncomfortably tight.

He must have been staring for a while, because he didn't hear Gwaine come up behind him until the man nudged him with a chuckle. ''Enjoying the view, are you?'' he asked amused, looking up to where Arthur's body was stretched into a bow, holding on to the shrouds with a single hand alone. ''I have to admit it’s a beautiful sight.''

Mortified, Merlin felt his cheeks heat up, the blush even spreading to his neck and ears. ''I don't-... I'm not- I have no idea what you are talking about,'' he spluttered.

Gwaine just laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. ''It's alright, lad, you wouldn't be the first one. And he's a good-looking fellow, I’ll give you that. Not my type, mind you!'' He waggled his eyebrows at Merlin. ''Doesn't mean I can't appreciate beauty when it's so openly displayed.''

Merlin eyed the rough looking sailor warily. ''But- he's...''

''A pirate? A bastard? A man? Sure is. No doubt about it.''

''But it's... you can't. Not with a man.'' Merlin swallowed uncomfortably, but Gwaine just raised an eyebrow at him. ''It's against the King's law!'' Merlin hissed.

Gwaine snorted. ''Can't be hanged twice, can you? We're all facing the gallows for piracy anyway, what's a little buggery on the way to hell?''

Merlin choked, and now Gwaine threw his head back with a roaring laugh, wrapping an arm around Merlin's shoulders. ''Don't look so shocked, lad. No one here's gonna try to tap that lily-white bottom of yours. For one, the Captain would kill us.''

Merlin frowned, wanting to ask what Gwaine meant by it, but the rascal was already pulling him towards the gunwale, and it was only now that Merlin realised Gwaine was carrying a pouch with a content that was rattling ominously when he heaved it back over his shoulder. There was a ladder hanging over the rail and, when Merlin glanced down, he saw that it had been lowered to a long boat lying next to the Excalibur, three men already waiting inside.

''Don't forget the rum!'' A black-skinned fellow with a shorn head and a golden earring called up to them. ''It's not every day that I can indulge without Leon or the Captain kicking my arse out in the morning.''

Gwaine put a hand to his chest. ''Myror, my friend, you wound me. When have I ever forgotten the means to survival?'' He pulled Merlin a little closer. ''I just found us another participant for our feast. Merlin here will join us.''

Merlin looked at Gwaine a little alarmed, he had not planned to join the crew for their shenanigans on the shore. He still could not bring himself to just forgo the believes that had been so deeply ingrained in his soul and that wouldn't allow him to consort with pirates, never mind whether they seemed to be good company. But Gwaine didn't give him any opportunity to bow out gracefully and, when Merlin threw a seeking glance back over his shoulder, he met the eyes of Arthur Pendragon, who stood on the deck wiping his sweaty brow with his forearm.

Something wild and overwhelming tugged at Merlin's insides and he swallowed. The Captain seemed to look only at him, his gaze searching and piercing him right through. As Merlin felt his chest tighten, the excuse to leave the ship and get away from Arthur seemed suddenly more than welcome. He let Gwaine push him out on the ladder, and got another eyeful of Arthur, who watched him through narrowed eyes. When Merlin dropped down into the long boat, where a grinning Myror clapped him on the shoulder, he couldn't decide whether he felt relieved or bereft.

They crossed over to the shore where a few of the other lads had built up a fire on the beach and had an honest to god boar roasting over it. Lancelot was playing the fiddle and a few of the lads were jumping and dancing around the fire, shoving each other and laughing. Merlin was a little surprised to see Guinevere a bit further off to the side, and was just about to make his way over to her when a blushing Owain asked her to dance - resulting in a rather disturbing sound coming from Lancelot's instrument.

The sun had started its decent towards the horizon painting the water in a golden light and Merlin sat down in the sand and watched as the men – the _pirates_ – enjoyed their free afternoon. There was food and there was rum, but the mood was more companionable than raucous, and so Merlin started to relax a little.

At some point Gwaine came over, dragging him up and pulling him towards the water for a swim. Cooling off seemed like a good idea, and Merlin followed him, pulling his shirt over his head and kicking off his boots. He was quite content to splash around in the shallow waves, but Gwaine laughed at him and took him by the wrist, dragging him further out until the ground started to slip away from under his feet.

Merlin started to struggle, trying to get free from Gwaine's grip, who still laughed, calling, ''Don't be such a princess, Merlin, it's not even cold.''

And then he dunked him and Merlin opened his mouth to protest, only to have it fill with water. He spluttered and fought, panicking, struggling to get away from Gwaine, but there was water everywhere and-

Suddenly a pair of strong hands grabbed him and pulled him out of the water, guiding him and holding him until he could stand on his own two feet again. Merlin coughed, trying to get enough air back into his lungs, and it was only after a moment that he realised that the hands were still on his shoulders, a broad chest obliterating his view.

Merlin squinted up at the face of the man who had rescued him, and a desperate laugh erupted from his chest. Of course. Who else could it be, but Arthur Pendragon?

''Are you alright?'' Arthur's voice was quiet, his words intended for only the two of them, and Merlin nodded.

''What the hell?'' Merlin heard Gwaine's shout and then the tell-tale splashing of someone moving through the water quickly. ''What's wrong with you, Pendragon? If you have a prior claim you could have said something, not that it's not Merlin's decis-''

''Shut up, Gwaine!'' Arthur growled. ''The boy can't bloody swim!''

''Wha-?'' And then Gwaine was next to him, looking guilty and worried. ''Why didn't you say anything? How was I to know? We fished you out of the water after-...'' Gwaine's eyes widened, and he looked at Arthur with something like a shocked epiphany written over the whole of his face. ''Oh...''

''Yes,'' Arthur grit out. ''Oh.''

Gwaine bowed his head. ''My apologies, Captain,'' he said, and he sounded more serious than Merlin had ever heard him.

Arthur just nodded, and then turned back to Merlin. ''More trouble than you're worth,'' he mumbled. ''Just as I thought.''

Arthur's hands still didn't leave his shoulders as the pirate captain led Merlin back to the shore, and Merlin wanted to tell him that he could walk on his own, thank you very much, but something stopped him. It wasn't the warmth of Arthur's hands, or that strange feeling of safety that the embrace seemed to convey and that still didn't manage to sooth Merlin's wildly beating heart – it couldn't be. Because Arthur was a pirate, and feeling safe in his presence would have just been ridiculous.

~*~

By the next day Merlin had given up on avoiding Arthur, because the captain of the Excalibur had the uncanny ability to just show up where ever Merlin went, and it had started to become a hassle to think up new excuses when they weren't successful anyway. Apparently Arthur Pendragon just lived for driving him crazy. What ever Merlin was doing, soon Arthur would be there, looking over his shoulder and commenting on his abilities or lack thereof.

''That's not how you do it,'' he would say, impatient and derisive. He'd crouch down next to Merlin, and take the whetstone and knife he was sharpening, or the rope he was splicing from Merlin's hands. ''Let me show you.''

And then he would proceed to demonstrate the task by putting his arms around Merlin's narrow shoulders, his breath tickling Merlin's neck. It was incredibly shameful and confusing, but Arthur's proximity _did things_ to Merlin. His skin would prickle and break out in goosebumps, waiting for the touch of lips that never came, and his hands would become even clumsier. Arthur would sigh and put his hands over Merlin's _guiding_ them, and Merlin would suddenly be all breathless and dizzy and embarrassingly, painfully hard. After having thoroughly unsettled Merlin, Arthur would then get up as if nothing had happened and move on to yell at someone, or climb around the ship in shirtsleeves, the collar open and exposing much too much of his tanned skin.

Merlin couldn't understand it. He was drawn to Arthur Pendragon like the tides that had to submit to the pull of the moon. It wasn't right, he knew that, but something inside him wanted it. Wanted to be touched by Arthur everywhere. Wanted to be possessed by him in the way he had heard whispered stories, shameful and secret, in the dark of night or the stupor of drink. Arthur made him feel hot and cold, breathless and excited, but also incredibly angry because he kept treating him like a boy, a useless boy even, although it had been Merlin who had saved his ship. It was a whirlwind of emotions that kept Merlin awake at night and on edge by day.

That afternoon, Merlin was sitting on deck with a few of the other lads, mending the sails that had suffered in the storm. It was tedious work, but one Merlin had quite some experience with, and so he was rather annoyed when a shadow suddenly fell over him, and he squinted up to see Captain Arthur Pendragon blocking out the sun.

''What?'' Merlin gritted, ''Am I doing it wrong again? You know that I'm technically not one of your crew, yeah? So you can't push me around!''

''Really, Merlin? If you're not crew, then you're a prisoner and I can push you around as much as I want,'' Arthur drawled.

Merlin glared at him. God, the man was a prat.

''Anyway,'' Arthur said, stepping back to give Merlin some room. ''Come with me.''

''What? But I'm not don-''

''Yes, you are. Because I say so. Now come.''

Merlin scowled, but got up, dusting off the back of his britches, which strangely enough made Arthur glare. ''So? What do you need me for?''

Arthur huffed, but just indicated for Merlin to follow him to the side of the ship. The blond captain then swung himself over the gunwale, where once more a long boat had been tied, dropping himself down with the ease of a jungle cat. Merlin on the other hand climbed over the rail awkwardly, realizing that Arthur had not bothered with stuff like ladders.

''Just drop!'' Arthur called up to him, and Merlin thought how great it would be if he just dropped right on the clotpole's head.

''Where are we going?'' Merlin asked, still holding on to the side of the ship, trying to think of a way to get down into the boat without making even more of an idiot of himself.

''To the shore.'' Arthur's answer was as dry as dirt, making Merlin grit his teeth. ''And some time today, if you please!''

Merlin about had it then. He just let go, not caring much whether he crushed Arthur upon landing. His stomach lurched, and then his feet hit the rocking floor of the boat, making him stagger, but he was steadied by two strong hands grabbing his hips.

''Really,'' Arthur said exasperated. ''For someone with your talents you have an incredible lack of grace.''

Merlin gaped. Because for one, this was the first time the pirate captain had acknowledged what had happened on the ship, and for another, this actually hurt. Merlin angrily pushed Arthur's hands away, stumbling towards the other end of the boat where he turned around and hissed, ''Well, if I'm so useless, what do you even want from me?''

Arthur scowled, looking away to the side and pursing his lips. He said something, but it was too quiet for Merlin to understand.

''What?''

Stormy blue eyes were narrowed at him and Arthur growled, ''I will teach you to swim, so that you won't bloody _drown_ every damn time I turn my back on you!''

~*~

Half an hour later, Merlin was sure that his life simply could not become any worse. After Arthur had rowed them to the shore, and they had pulled the boat up on the beach, he told Merlin to get his clothes off. At first, Merlin had just stared at the blond man in front of him incredulously, but when Arthur kept watching him expectantly, his arms crossed and his stance wide, Merlin realised that he was indeed serious. The affronted look he shot the pirate captain was only met with a smug grin and a haughtily raised eyebrow.

''You can hardly learn how to swim in your clothes, Merlin,'' he said amused.

''Why the hell not?''

Arthur rolled his eyes. ''Because they'll drag you down, and you'll have a hard enough time to stay afloat. So, come on, off they go. There's a good lad.''

There was snickering coming from behind him, and when Merlin cast a look over his shoulder he saw a few of the crew working on stripping the bark of some trees they'd cut down. They quickly went back to their task when Arthur shot them one of his glares, but Merlin couldn't help but feel even more mortified. Reluctantly he started to strip down to his undergarments. The braies were thin though, and Merlin realised with sudden dread that they would hide nothing as soon as they became wet.

''What about you?'' he asked defiantly, raising his eyebrows at Arthur. ''Shouldn't you strip too?''

Arthur just grinned. ''Sure,'' he said casually, and pulled of his boots and his shirt. But that was it. Merlin scowled, aware that he had only succeeded in making this harder on himself.

What then came was pure torture. Arthur had him trying to float in the water, which was weird and slightly scary when the water went up to his ears or splashed into his face. Seeing his nervousness, Arthur reached out to support him. One hand was between Merlin's shoulder blades, the other practically on his arse, with only a threadbare piece of linen between them.

It got even worse when Arthur told him to try it on his stomach, because now his hand was resting on Merlin's belly – just a hairbreadth from where Merlin's rock hard cock was straining the fabric of his undergarments. Arthur's palm was rough with callouses, those of a sailor and a swordsman, but incredibly warm in contrast to the cooler water. It made heat coil in Merlin's belly and he could hardly concentrate on Arthur's words of instruction.

''Relax,'' Arthur finally said, exasperation plain in his voice. ''There's no need to be scared. The water's not going to bite you and neither am I.''

Merlin nearly choked at that, and Arthur grabbed him tighter, which only resulted in Merlin starting to flail and then Arthur's hand was brushing him _down there_ , and Merlin was on his feet immediately.

''I'm sorry this isn't working,'' he squeaked, almost shaking with embarrassment. But when he tried to walk back to the shore, Arthur grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him back.

''Where do you think you're going?'' he asked dangerously.

''I- it's no use-''

The fingers on his wrist turned almost painful. ''I'll decide about that,'' Arthur said, and his tone brooked no argument. ''You will learn this, whether you want to or not.''

~*~

The next two days went off in much the same way. At some point Arthur would show up and order Merlin to come with him and, soon after, Merlin would find himself floating in the shallow waters of the bay in his braies. Arthur didn't keep his hands to himself. If anything he started to touch Merlin more – and not just in the water, it became a thing that continued on when they got back to the ship. There was always a hand on Merlin's neck, kneading his muscles almost subconsciously, or on the small of his back, leading him in whatever direction Arthur wanted him to go. It had Merlin strung tight like the sheet ropes when sailing close to the wind, and gave him the same exhilaration.

At first, Merlin had thought it was just him. That Arthur might have caught on to the mortifying attraction Merlin felt for him, and was teasing him even. But then Arthur started showing him the moves that were supposed to keep Merlin from going under, and Merlin realised that this whole thing might not be so one-sided after all.

Arthur was standing behind Merlin, the water lapping up to their waists, and his hands were gliding over Merlin's naked chest and moving his arms, all the while pressed against Merlin's back, hot and strong, like a lover's embrace. It was all so... it was sensual, like they were dancing, like Arthur's touch was as much a caress as it was supposed to teach him, and Merlin couldn't help it when a low moan escaped his throat and he instinctively pressed backwards.

Arthur's hands froze, and Merlin felt an incredible, dreadful rush of mortification fill him up. He squeezed his eyes close, waiting for Arthur's amused chuckle, for the sneer and the insult, but it never came. And then Merlin realised that something hard was pressing against the cheeks of his arse, and Arthur most definitely had not taken his pistol into the water.

Merlin's eyes widened, and he was starting to turn around, indignation making him reckless, but Arthur had suddenly let go off him, as if he had been burned, and was already wading back to the shore.

''We'll continue this tomorrow,'' he barked without looking back, and Merlin was left standing in the water, gaping and bereft and painfully aroused.

~*~

Arthur had taken the smaller boat they'd crossed over with, and so Merlin had to wait until some of the men were done with their work and took him back to the Excalibur in one of the long boats. If Arthur had thought this would let him escape a confrontation, though, he had another thing coming, because Merlin about had it with the obnoxious pirate captain.

As soon as he was back on board, Merlin went below deck and stormed into the captain's cabin without even bothering to knock. Arthur sat behind his desk, seemingly engrossed in a map, and looked at him through narrowed eyes when Merlin closed the door behind him with a bang.

''This is my private cabin, _Mer_ lin,'' he drawled. ''I know basic manners might escape you but-''

''Put me back in the brig or make a move, but stop _toying_ with me!'' Merlin cut him off, still seething, anger and humiliation and arousal churning in his stomach.

''Toying with you?'' Arthur asked disbelievingly, standing up and coming around his desk.

Merlin swallowed, but he wouldn't back down now. ''You keep touching me,'' he gritted out, ''and you- I know you want-...'' He fixed Arthur with a glare. ''I know you want me.''

Arthur looked slightly uncomfortable now and his face was guarded when he glanced to the side. ''Even if I did,'' he said, shaking his head. ''You're just a boy. It wouldn't be right.''

He started to turn away, dismissing Merlin, but Merlin wouldn't have it. He grabbed Arthur's arm and, fuelling his magic into it, pulled him back around. ''I'm eighteen years of age. I'm not a boy!'' he hissed, and then he slammed the blond man against the door, his magic tingling under the palm resting on Arthur's chest.

Arthur's eyes widened, but there was heat glimmering in them, and he made no move to resist. ''Well then, Mr. Emrys,'' he said challengingly. ''By all means. Show me what it is that you want.''

Merlin stared at him with his heart hammering in his throat. Arthur's hair was ruffled, and his loose shirt had come undone at the collar, giving sight to tanned skin and a dusting of golden hair Merlin longed to touch. He was dirty and sweaty – every inch a pirate – and Merlin had never wanted something so much in his life. A glance downwards confirmed that Arthur's black britches were tight, making no secret out of his own desire for Merlin, and it gave him the final courage he needed. Slowly, with his eyes never breaking contact, he curled his hand around Arthur's shirt collar, and then he pulled him forward and crushed their lips together.

It was as if Arthur had only waited for Merlin to make this decision, to take the first step, because the very same moment their lips met, Arthur's hands came up to grab Merlin's head, holding him in place and plundering his mouth like the damn pirate he was. And Merlin never wanted him to stop.

It was different and better, so much better, than anything Merlin had ever experienced. Arthur was not a fumbling boy, his hands were sure when they slid down Merlin's back and grabbed his hips. But he was not a drunken sailor either, not just looking for some quick, shameful satisfaction. He groaned into Merlin's mouth and then dragged his lips down the column of Merlin's neck to his collarbones, teeth worrying the sensitive skin.

Merlin was starting to feel a little bit light-headed, but he was not about to give all this enticing power back to Arthur, not when he finally had the pirate captain right where he wanted him. He tightened his grip on Arthur's shirt and pulled some more, ripping the material right down Arthur's front so that there was nothing left between Merlin's hands and Arthur's heated skin. The bastard just grinned though, apparently not taken aback by Merlin's forcefulness in the slightest, and then it all turned into a struggle, a race of who could get the clothes off the other one faster.

Arthur unceremoniously pulled Merlin's shirt over his head and reached for his belt buckle, all the while pushing and pulling him into the direction of the bed. Merlin on the other hand managed to distract Arthur by biting his neck and brushing one of his dark nipples, deft fingers unbuckling the man's britches, before pushing him down upon the sheets.

Arthur just rolled with it though, kicking off his boots and then dragging Merlin down on top of him with easy strength. He pushed his hands down the back of Merlin's britches, sword callouses scraping over his buttocks and the sensitive skin that no one had ever touched, at least not like this. Being the domineering bastard that he was, Arthur held Merlin's bottom down with unrelenting force as he pressed his own hardness up against Merlin's crotch. The pressure on his cock made Merlin breathless and he dropped his head to Arthur's shoulder with a tortured groan, bucking against him desperately.

Arthur apparently had something else in mind though, because he shoved Merlin's trousers down his thighs, freeing his straining cock. He pulled him up by his hips until Merlin's leaking member was level with Arthur's face and, before Merlin could even register what was happening, engulfed the engorged head with his mouth, sucking it deeply into its wet heat, while blunt nails dug into the cleft of Merlin's arse.

For a moment Merlin thought he would come right there, down Arthur's throat, as his whole body coiled like a spring, every fibre of his being screaming in the storm of pleasure. His hips bucked helplessly, fucking deeper into Arthur's mouth, and the blond man took it in stride, holding Merlin with a bruising grip and guiding him into a pace that made his blood boil in Merlin's veins.

It felt incredible, fantastic and mind-blowing, and it took Merlin every bit of an almost inhuman control to pull back. Because there was something else that he wanted, even if he wasn't really sure what it was. He just knew that he needed more of Arthur, needed to be closer and deeper, needed to possess and be possessed. He had heard that men could lie with each other, just like they would with a woman, and the idea - however shameful and perverted it seemed - had spoken to Merlin, had rang a need inside of him that had slowly built into an ever present urge. But only now, only with Arthur Pendragon, it had fully bloomed into determination.

Arthur's body was pure strength, an unalloyed simmering energy hidden under surprisingly soft skin, which nevertheless was marred with scars that told of a life of battle, of mortal peril and hard fought for victory. He was beautiful and dangerous in equal measure, a forbidden desire made flesh beneath Merlin. There was a question in his eyes though, his gaze contemplating as he looked up at Merlin with his lips red and glistening with the evidence of their depravity. Merlin swallowed, uncertain whether he could, whether he really wanted-

''I... There's...'' He bit his lip. ''I want you to...uhm...''

''You want me to what?'' Arthur asked when Merlin couldn't get the words out, pushing himself up on his hands, searching Merlin's face with curious eyes. The change in position made his cock nudge against Merlin's arse, and Merlin moaned, his whole body shivering with the sinful need to give himself over to the pirate captain, however frightening that thought might be.

''I want you to... enter me,'' Merlin said in a rushed confession, feeling his cheeks heating up. ''To be inside of me.''

There was a sharp intake of breath, and when Merlin dared to glance at Arthur, the pirate's eyes were blown wide with desire, and maybe something else, something even more possessive that Merlin couldn't identify. The hand resting on Merlin's hipbone sneaked further down, brushing over the cheeks of his arse and to that secret place between them.

''Here?'' Arthur whispered, trailing a finger over Merlin's pucker.

Merlin's face was flaming by now, but he swallowed his embarrassment, concentrating only on the feel of Arthur's broad finger and the tight coil of lust it awoke in Merlin's gut. Squeezing his eyes shut, he nodded.

When he opened them again, Arthur was licking his lips, and somehow all the smugness had fallen away from him. He looked serious and determined and very, very aroused. ''I'll have to prepare you,'' he said, reaching for the oil lamp that was bolted to the wall next to his bed without ever taking his eyes of Merlin. He pulled off the shade and wick, and dipped his fingers into the oil while Merlin remained where he was, straddled over Arthur's stomach, holding on to his broad shoulders.

When he felt the slippery digits moving down the cleft to his entrance, Merlin instinctively clenched his cheeks. But there was Arthur's other hand soothingly stroking over his side and his chest, rough fingertips caressing his collarbones and gliding up to his throat.

The strength of his touch was an erotic contrast to the gentle tone of his voice that whispered, ''Relax Merlin, it's alright. God, you're so beautiful, I'll make it good, gonna feel amazing...''

It were these words as much as the way Arthur was looking at him, like Merlin wasn't a useless idiot, but special and desirable and just what Arthur had always wanted, that made Merlin go pliant after all, and he hesitantly started to press back against Arthur's fingers.

''Okay,'' he whispered, ''I... I trust you,'' and Arthur's eyes widened but he didn't comment. He just kept stroking up and down Merlin's cleft, rubbing and gently pressing at his hole, and then he pulled Merlin's head down for another deep and questing kiss.

''I won't hurt you, I promise,'' Arthur told him, and something inside of Merlin crumbled, something he feared might have guarded his heart against the blond pirate so far, and it left him feeling completely defenceless. This tender and almost sweet side of Arthur was something he had not expected. It made their encounter - which had been fuelled mostly by anger and lust until now - something different and far more than Merlin was prepared for. With a frightening clarity Merlin realised that it would probably break his heart.

And then Arthur breached him, and it felt so foreign and perverted, but so right as well that he couldn't help but moan in the most shameless way. He tried not to think of what he must look like, straddling Arthur with his back arched, his hands clutching at Arthur's shoulders while the other man slowly slid one of his broad fingers in and out of Merlin's arse. He felt open and vulnerable, all his shields and protective layers having been stripped away, like his soul was laid bare in front of Arthur.

''You're okay.'' Arthur mouthed along Merlin's throat, and then gripped his hair, pulling him up to face him. ''You're perfect,'' he told him breathlessly, staring at Merlin with an expression of awe painted across his features. ''So wanton, so beautiful,'' Merlin felt the finger worming its’s way inside of him again, but there was another one now, the stretch burning but the fullness still not enough. ''So open for me.''

Merlin clenched his muscles around Arthur's digits and the other man groaned, bucking his hips and sliding his erection along Merlin's cleft. It was too much, and not enough, and Merlin whimpered.

''Please,'' he whispered despairingly. ''Arthur, please.''

The fingers left him, and for a moment Merlin felt horrifyingly empty and deserted before something else, blunt and big, nudged at his entrance.

''Bear down, all right?'' Arthur gasped, his hands holding Merlin's hips, a gentle pressure indicating his intentions. Merlin was too far gone for doubts or questions; he simply followed his instincts and obeyed.

He was speared, his hole prised open by Arthur's cock, thick and throbbing, and all Merlin could do was surrender to the invasion. He felt inconceivably full as he sank down on Arthur, but also connected in a much deeper way than he had ever imagined possible. Arthur was panting under him, gritting his teeth, and his muscles tense to the point that the tendons were showing. He was trying to hold back, Merlin realised, trying to give him time to adjust.

That display of raw, unfettered power, which nevertheless was keeping itself at Merlin's mercy, woke something almost devious inside of him. Right at that moment, Merlin could feel it, in the marrow of his bones: that Arthur was his.

Merlin clenched his muscles and pushed himself up, slowly dragging himself along Arthur's shaft until his rim caught at the wider head. Arthur _groaned_ , helplessly and with his eyes blown wide, hands clutching Merlin's hips with such force that he was sure there would be bruises come morning. The thought of Arthur leaving his marks on Merlin's body thrilled him, the idea of Arthur claiming him in such a way as enticing as it was arousing.

Arthur's eyes were black with lust, only a rim of the sea-blue flickering around it, and he stared up at Merlin as if he wasn't sure he was real. Running his nails down Arthur's chest, Merlin plunged down again, impaling himself and ripping a strangled shout from Arthur's throat.

It was push and pull then, as Arthur's control broke and he slammed up into Merlin's channel with the same abandon as Merlin pushed himself down on Arthur's cock. It was a dance, and it was a battle, and Merlin felt nearly delirious with the pleasure that exploded from his gut to the tips of his tingling fingers, his magic singing in ecstasy.

Almost as if they were back in that storm, the world around them drifted away, and Merlin rode on the blustering waves, just him and Arthur, always Arthur, until he surged higher and higher, impossibly high... There was a cry - though Merlin would not have been able to say whether it had come from him or from Arthur - and then he felt the other man spilling deep inside his guts.

As Merlin tumbled down from his climax, exhausted and broken, he felt a warmth settling inside of his belly, making him feel content and satisfied, thinking there was something of Arthur's forever inside of him now.

~*~

It was a miracle that no one came to disturb them during the rest of the day and the following night, but then the fierce loyalty of the crew of the Excalibur seemed to almost border on worship for their captain sometimes – so maybe that was enough of an explanation. Merlin was not about to complain since he spent that time entangled with Arthur in a haze of pleasure and sweet exhaustion.

After that first time, they had both settled down in a calmer sort of contentment. Merlin felt languid and happy to just lie next to Arthur, their legs entwined and Arthur's fingers absent-mindedly trailing over Merlin's skin as the sweat cooled on their bodies. They didn't talk, even that seemed to be too much effort and unnecessary when they had found a language that was so much more satisfactory.

Merlin let Arthur take him again a while later, stretched out on his back, with his arse resting on Arthur's strong thighs, letting the other man do all the work as he pulled Merlin onto his cock in a slow and steady rhythm. He felt slightly raw inside from having been used so thoroughly, but that only seemed to heighten his pleasure. Watching Arthur through hooded eyes, he lazily stroked himself, not really in a hurry to reach another peak. There were drops of sweat running down from Arthur's temples, along his strong neck and over the broad plains of his chest, and Merlin wanted to lick it up, wanted to tongue at the dark, pebbled nipples, worrying them with his teeth until Arthur lost control again and fucked Merlin with the abandon of a wild, mating beast.

Merlin didn't know where these thoughts were coming from, why he felt such joy every time Arthur spilled his seed inside of him, but he didn't question it.

A few moments later Arthur hissed out a long breath and tensed, and again Merlin was filled up with the warm liquid of Arthur's semen. Arthur pulled out and Merlin felt some of it trickle down over the cheeks of his arse, making his own cock only harden further. And then Arthur spread Merlin's thighs impossibly wide, stretching them until the strain became almost painful, and dove down on Merlin's shaft, taking it deep into the heat of his mouth, and further, until Merlin was fucking Arthur's throat with a few helpless thrusts and spent himself with a cry of desperate relief.

Arthur slumped down next to him on his stomach then, and Merlin turned towards him, curling up on his side and stretching out his hand to trail it through the pool of sweat along Arthur's spine.

That's when he saw the scars.

For a moment Merlin simply stared. The marks weren't incredibly distinct; maybe that's why he had never noticed them. A net of criss-crossing silver lines stretching over Arthur's back from his shoulder blades to his waistline, but there was no doubt at all what had caused them.

''You've been flogged,'' Merlin breathed out in a pained whisper, not really knowing why it hurt him so much. The scars were obviously old, and Arthur was here; he had survived this terrible assault.

''Yes.'' It was clipped and bitter, and where Arthur had been relaxed and content a moment before, he was now tense and guarded.

Merlin lightly stroked his fingertips along the thin lines. ''Where... how did this happen?''

''Navy,'' Arthur grunted. ''When I was First Officer on the Endeavour.''

Merlin halted, stunned, and for a second his brain struggled to take in what Arthur was telling him. That he'd been an officer once, and therefore had to be noble born. That he'd been flogged, although this was a punishment only dealt out for the ordinary sailors and soldiers. And now he was captaining a pirate ship? It should have been unbelievable, but strangely enough Merlin felt not a shred of a doubt that Arthur was telling him the truth.

''I thought officers wouldn't be flogged,'' he final said uncertainly, and Arthur barked out a disparaging laugh.

''No, normally they're not. But my captain was a special kind of bastard.''

''What did you do?''

''Saved the ship. Saved his hide with it. But it had not been by his orders, and that was something he couldn't forgive.'' Arthur pushed himself up, swinging his legs out of bed, so that he came to sit on its side with his back – and the scars – towards Merlin. There was a dark anger painted in the tense lines of his body, but Merlin knew that it wasn't directed at him.

''He had me flogged,'' Arthur said quietly. ''On deck. In front of the whole crew. And I took it because that's what I had learned. To _obey_.'' He looked at Merlin then, his eyes dark and dangerous. ''After that he ordered every single crewmember who had acted on my orders to be keelhauled. While sailing at top speed. Some of them couldn't swim either.''

Merlin swallowed. He knew that would have equalled a death warrant.

Arthur pushed himself to his feet and walked over to the windows looking out from the stern. ''That's how I became a pirate,'' he said, watching the waves as if they could give him the peace he was seeking. ''I took command. Put that bastard and anyone still loyal to him in a boat half a day from the next port, and threw away everything that had made up my life until then. My family. My name. My birth-right.''

''You could have done anything though,'' Merlin felt the need to object. ''Could have become a farmer or-''

Arthur scoffed. ''There's a price on my head, Merlin. I gained a death sentence the moment I turned against my captain and took over the ship.''

''Still...'' Merlin bit his lip. He had come to realise that Arthur was a good man under his arrogant bluster. It was hard to deny when he so obviously cared for the people under his command, when he kept saving Merlin's life and looked at him with that fond expression of his. But all the more hard it was for Merlin to accept that Arthur spent his life as a hunted criminal, that he would rob and steal and kill.

''You didn't have to become a pirate,'' he said quietly. ''You could have gone anywhere, somewhere nobody knows you!''

Arthur turned towards him at that and glared. ''I'm not in a habit to run away, _Mer_ lin. I'm not a coward. And I wouldn't give up the sea for anything. I'm a sailor; it's in my blood.''

''You hurt innocent people, though!'' Merlin accused, angry suddenly that Arthur wouldn't see that.

''I don't seek to hurt anybody, but I will defend myself and my crew!'' Arthur hissed angrily, grabbing his britches from the floor and pulling them up. ''You've sailed on a warship, just like me when I was still a naval officer. You know what happens in a sea battle. What about all that men who die under the canon fire, or with a sword in their gut when an enemy vessel is boarded?''

''That's war, those people defend their country!'' Merlin cried. ''You just do it for your own gain and glory!''

Arthur, who had just bend down to pick up his shirt, whipped around and now his anger _was_ directed at Merlin. His eyes were blazing with it and he looked like a vengeful god of war, golden hair askew and posture rigid with tension, his muscles bulging from where he was twisting the fabric of his shirt in his hands.

''You don't know what you're talking about!'' he gritted out, and for a moment Merlin thought he would say more, but Arthur just turned away, slipping into his crumbled shirt and throwing the order over his shoulder as he left the cabin. ''Get dressed. The repairs are done and we'll set sails at dawn!''

Merlin was left, naked and dirty in Arthur's bed, and he had never felt more alone than in this moment, watching Arthur walk away from him.

The first light of dawn was just creeping up at the horizon when Arthur stomped up on deck, bristling with anger and frustration. He didn't know what Merlin wanted from him. Arthur had not set out to become a pirate, he had always strived to be a man of honour, but his life had taken a turn and a half and Arthur felt like he had tried to make the best out of the circumstances fate had thrown at him. He had a good crew. They were no savages, and Arthur was proud to be their captain.

Merlin's accusations had hit him deeper than they should. He knew that, being a pirate, this would be his legacy, this would be how the world remembered his name, and it had never mattered. But somehow Merlin did; somehow Merlin's opinion was important, and it hurt Arthur that he thought so badly of him.

Leon came towards him when he stepped out on the lower gun deck, and he sent him off to raise the crew. They had loitered long enough, and Arthur wanted to rid himself of the womenfolk before the admiral sent an armada after him to rip his daughter out of the vile clutches of a pirate. He was aware that Lancelot would be devastated to see Guinevere go, but it wasn't as if she could stay on board. And even if it pained him to admit so, it might be for the best after all, if Merlin went with them.

Getting the ship ready took a while, and the sun was up when the big sails caught the merry breeze and the Excalibur gathered speed, gliding out of the sheltered bay into the open waters. It was a good day for sailing - the wind steady and the sun warm on his skin - and Arthur took the wheel for a bit, rejoicing in the feel of the ship bending to the wind and his will. This was how he was the happiest, with his eyes on the horizon and the Excalibur flying over the waves beneath him.

And then Merlin came up on deck, his black locks ruffled and his cheeks pink with colour, and Arthur just wanted to grab him and push him down on his bed again to ravish that gorgeous mouth. He felt a surge of possessiveness, thinking of the marks he had left on Merlin's skin and that now lay hidden under his loose clothes, and it made his britches tighten again. But he was well aware that Merlin wasn't his, could never be his, because Merlin was too pure of a soul and could never accept the kind of life Arthur was living.

Maybe it was better that way. Merlin would only be a distraction, if Arthur had to constantly worry about him getting into yet another mishap or danger. And if he stayed ashore – and Arthur really hoped he wouldn't be stupid enough to take on another position like the one he had held when they had met – he would be much safer. In the end, Arthur just wanted Merlin to be safe.

It was obvious that the crew realised that something had happened - there were no secrets to be had on a ship after all - but they didn't say anything. Arthur was the captain, and even if he didn't keep them on an awfully tight rein, they held too much respect for him and his position to tease him if he didn't invite them to.

Merlin was a different matter entirely of course. If Arthur had thought their encounter would have made it easier for him to understand Merlin, he had been thoroughly mistaken. It seemed that Merlin was still angry, avoiding Arthur as best as he could, but he kept sending him these longing glances when ever he thought Arthur wasn't looking.

It was the evening of their second day on the water when Merlin found him in his cabin. He even knocked, a circumstance that had Arthur expect anyone but Merlin when he called for him to enter. Merlin shuffled in, closing the door behind him, and when he turned to Arthur his face was an open display of unhappiness.

For a while they just stared at each other. Arthur with cold expectation, and Merlin with the mulish defiance Arthur had come to associate with him. Then Merlin opened his mouth and, after a second of hesitation, he said, ''My father was killed by pirates.''

The words made something twist in Arthur's guts, and words seemed to escape him in the face of Merlin's bitter pain. He realised what Merlin was telling him, and why, but he had no idea how he was supposed to reply.

''He wasn't a soldier,'' Merlin continued with difficulty. ''He was a sailor on a trading vessel. It broke my mother's heart when he never came home. I was only a baby then, so I never got to know him really.''

Arthur sighed. He didn't really understand why, but he felt strangely defeated. ''I'm sorry,'' he said, and he meant it. Ugly regret and bitter sadness churned in his stomach, and he had no choice but to get up and walk over to Merlin, who still stood just one step inside of the room, looking at him in wary reproach. ''I'm sorry about your father,'' Arthur said once more. ''I am sure he was a good man.''

Merlin's shoulders slumped a little, and he bowed his head when he mumbled, ''You're a good man too, that's why I don't _understand_ -''

''Shhh,'' Arthur said, putting a hand on Merlin's neck and pulling him against his chest. ''I know. But this is who I am, Merlin. I can understand if that's not enough for you.''

When Merlin raised his head and looked at Arthur with eyes that shone an incredible blue, Arthur found himself wondering how it was possible that a face could hold so much emotion. It was as if Merlin held nothing back, and right now there were a myriad of feelings playing on his features like the light of a sunset on the sea. It was hard to identify them all, but Arthur could see sadness as well as longing.

He gently took that face in his hands, thumbs rubbing over Merlin's sharp cut cheekbones before he pulled him into a kiss. It was gentle this time, full of apologies and regret, and Merlin's lips almost tasting like farewell already. They drifted to the bed more than they stumbled, undressing each other without any of the hurry of their first time, letting their hands explore and discover the secrets of skin and flesh.

Arthur pulled Merlin down with him, stretching him out on the bed and angling his head to kiss him some more. He was content to do just that, kiss Merlin in all the possible ways: soft and light, open and wet, heated and tender. He wanted to commit it all to memory, the way he tasted, the smooth, pale stretch of his skin and the sound of his ragged breaths.

When he opened Merlin this time, there was no hesitation, no resistance at all. He was hot and incredibly tight around Arthur's fingers, gripping them as they slid in and out smoothly, coated as they were in the oil. Merlin's hole made a soft sucking sound, as if it was reluctant to let go of any part of Arthur, while Merlin's cock was lying full and hard against his stomach, a white pearl of fluid building at the tip.

He was a sight to behold, his pale skin glistening with a thin layer of sweat, an almost luminous contrast to his night-black hair. Though it was really the ears, Arthur thought fondly, that made it look as if he had caught himself a water sprite. Not for the first time he wondered if it was that what Merlin was. His magic was still something Arthur couldn't grasp, a mysterious entity slumbering in a gangly, belligerent and somehow still innocent young man.

Merlin himself apparently had no idea why or how he held this power, he just knew it was there and used it to the best of his abilities – which at this moment was to run his hands up Arthur's torso, eyes golden and fingers tingling with energy. The magic seemed to develop a mind of its own, spreading out in soft tendrils of light that encompassed Arthur, touching and teasing, like the hands of a hundred lovers.

Arthur threw his head back, and gripped Merlin's hips, unable to wait a second longer when he was already slithering along the edge. He pushed into Merlin's scorching heat, burying himself to the hilt. Panting, he looked down at Merlin who was staring up at him with eyes dark, but glimmering in a golden fire at the edges.

''God, what are you doing to me?'' Arthur whispered, captivated and just a little broken, because this, that beautiful creature right before him, was a treasure that was not his to claim.

And then Merlin smiled, and there were dimples curving into his cheeks and crinkles around his eyes, and that was the moment Arthur realised it. That he was fighting a battle that had long been lost, that there was no way he'd ever get out of this unscathed when his heart lay already quivering and bleeding in the palm of Merlin's hand.

A shout erupted from his throat, a guttural sound of anguish and need and desperation, and Arthur rammed into Merlin with wild abandon, needing to be as deep as possible, needing to leave his mark and make Merlin his – even if it was for just that night.

Merlin met him for every thrust, stroking himself with one hand an clawing at Arthur's arse with the other while soft sighs and tortured moans fell from his lips. When long white ropes painted Merlin's belly with his release, Arthur didn't have the strength to drag it out any longer either. He was too lost already in Merlin's pliant body and his tender soul, and he spent himself with a helpless groan, shuddering and choking, and then collapsed, his face buried against Merlin's chest.

The wetness on his face was from sweat alone, and his pants were the result of his exhaustion. The magic crept with loving touch over his cooling skin, reaching where Merlin's hands couldn't, and Arthur was held, safe and secure in a way he couldn't remember having ever been before. As sleep took him away he mumbled his silent confession against Merlin's skin.

~*~

And then the day came – much too soon for Arthur's liking – that the towers of Port St. James came into sight on the horizon. Arthur anchored the Excalibur a few miles south and sent Leon and Gwen ahead, so that Gwen could convey the message and the ransom demand. Gwen glared at him a little when he bid her farewell, and Arthur sighed. It wasn't easy sometimes to be a pirate captain.

''You could have sent Merlin,'' Lancelot said, almost a little accusingly, standing next to him as they watched the boat glide away from them towards the rocky shoreline.

''The admiral doesn't know Merlin from Adam. Gwen won't be in any danger and lends credulity to our claim,'' Arthur replied calmly.

''And I'm sure that's your only reason.''

Arthur turned towards his friend then. ''What are you trying to say?''

''That you don't want Merlin to go at all.'' Lancelot looked at him challengingly.

Arthur groaned, pulling at his hair in frustration. ''Of course not,'' he snapped. ''He'd be a good addition to the crew, but unfortunately he isn't very keen on a life of piracy. I can hardly fault him for that.''

''Arthur,'' Lancelot said, his voice softer now, ''Maybe you just have to tell him how you feel and ask him then.''

Arthur balled his fists, thinking of how much he wanted Merlin to stay, how unacceptable it seemed to just let him walk away. ''It's his decision to make,'' Arthur bit out, raising his chin and scowling at Lancelot, before he turned around and stomped off in the direction of his cabin. Before he went down below deck though, he stopped, glancing back at his friend over his shoulder.

''If she feels the same, she'll wait, you know?'' he said, trying very hard not to contemplate his own situation.

Merlin and him had spent the last few days in ignorant bliss, never mentioning Arthur's hazardous occupation or Merlin's stubborn belief in the integrity of the British crown. They had talked about other things though, slowly uncovering each other in different ways, learning all there was to learn and thereby, maybe, coming to understand each other better.

Arthur had told Merlin about growing up as the son of Lord Uther Pendragon, an admiral in his own right, who behaved more like a commanding officer than a father around him. How lonely it had been, and how he had been expected to be an adult almost as soon as he could walk. He told him how he had never known his mother, and had always felt guilty because she had died giving birth to him, and sometimes suspected that his father blamed him too.

Merlin had talked about his mother, how she had loved him and how dearly Merlin had loved her in return. How he had been devastated when she passed away from a fever the winter Merlin turned seven. He'd had no relatives to take him in, so he was sent to an orphanage, where he was met with little sympathy and only the rough hand of abuse. He'd vowed to leave that place as soon as possible, going to walk in his father's footsteps. It's how he had become a ship-boy, but he'd been stuck in that position because his captain thought him too rebellious and a waste of space.

Arthur wanted to throttle that stupid bastard, as well as every single person who had ever hurt Merlin, but he kept silent about it, knowing Merlin wouldn't appreciate any threats of violence coming from him – no matter whom they were directed at.

Now the game was up though. When Leon came back with an agreement about the ransom for the Lady Vivian, the time had come to throw away the self-delusions and face the reality before them. Arthur knew that it was unlikely he would ever see Merlin again after the young man had disembarked the Excalibur. The thought split him apart, right down the middle, the idea incomprehensible even if it was true.

Captain Arthur Pendragon was a proud man, and he knew it. He'd never begged for his life - he had never begged for anything - but as he watched the crew lowering the long boat down onto the water and the last moments of Merlin's presence in his life were ripped from him in quick succession, Arthur couldn't help himself. He asked Merlin to accompany him to his cabin.

Arthur pushed the door open and walked to his desk without bothering to look if Merlin had followed him. He knew he would, and it was confirmed by the sound of shuffling feet and a dull bang when the door fell shut behind him. Arthur braced his hands upon the table top in front him, letting his head hang and staring – unseeingly - at the maps that were spread upon it.

The silence in the room was oppressive, and Arthur's heart was hammering as if he was about to enter a battle. He took a deep breath, and then he pushed the words out with forceful determination, still not able to look at the man who had – in the space of barely two weeks – become the hub of the world to him.

''I have never said this, not to anyone.'' Arthur swallowed, but forced himself to continue. ''But... please, Merlin. Don't go.''

There. He'd said it, and the exhilaration of it was like falling, without a sense of up and down, into a bottomless pit.

''I-...'' Merlin said, and Arthur could hear the apology in his voice before it was spoken. ''I'm sorry.''

Arthur's shoulders dropped as all fight left him, all emotion at all. When he turned around his face had closed off in a perfect mask of haughty superiority. He was Captain Pendragon - The King – and nothing could shake him, nothing at all.

He gave Merlin a small nod. ''Well, Mr. Emrys, then I wish you a safe journey and... Godspeed!''

When Arthur turned back towards his desk he caught Merlin's devastated expression from the corner of his eyes, but he didn't say anything further, and he didn't look back.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Four months later...**

Merlin just wanted to die. Really, just have a lightning bolt hit him right here in this bed and put an end to all his misery. He felt sick and tired and he just wanted to curl up on the thin mattress for the rest of the day and _not move._ Instead he was supposed to make deliveries. Over the whole town. Running up thousands of steps and passing thousands of stinking heaps of garbage or other sources of nauseating scents, wafting at him from people's kitchen's and latrines and people _themselves._ This whole town was smelling like everything foul and rotten had come together to have a great, big feast right under Merlin's nose.

Just as he was pulling the blanket over his head with a pitiful whine, there was a knock on the door, and a slightly cranky but nevertheless kind voice asking, ''Merlin? Are you still in bed?''

When Merlin didn't answer and just buried his face deeper into the pillow, the door was slowly pushed open with a creak and then there were footsteps coming closer, stopping next to the bed.

''Merlin, it's half past seven already.'' Merlin still didn't budge, and a moment later a hand came to rest on his shoulder, shaking him gently. ''Come on, lad, there's breakfast on the table!''

The thought of food made Merlin shudder, his stomach rebelling at the idea alone. He really just wanted to remain where he was and suffer in silence, but Merlin knew that while Gaius was a kind and generous man, he also had no time for slackers. So when the blanket was pulled back from his head, he sighed and then grunted something he hoped conveyed his compliance, trying to push himself up on his hands and knees.

Merlin was very grateful to Gaius for taking him in. After Merlin had embarked the Excalibur, leaving Arthur behind but taking his feelings for the blond pirate captain with him, he had felt lost and unsure where to go from here. His stars had aligned themselves newly and every fibre of his being told him that his destiny had made a sharp turn, that this – that Arthur – would lead him in a completely different direction, but towards something he was supposed to be.

He had only briefly considered signing up for a position on another ship. He had realised how disillusioned he'd become after four years on the Confidence, the seafaring life not as noble as he had imagined it as a boy, when his mother had told him stories about his father and how honourably he served his king and country. He had been fourteen and trying to escape the hard life and even harder hands he'd suffered at the orphanage, thinking he was the luckiest boy in the world when he was taken on as a ship boy. But the abuse had only gotten worse.

He caught himself thinking that the experience would have been different under a captain like Arthur Pendragon, but tried to quickly push that thought away. He still tried to think of Arthur as little as possible because it hurt in a much deeper way than he'd ever expected. But he was dreaming about him all the time, images that lingered and followed him into wakefulness. Images of Arthur, stretched out in all his naked glory on the bed or standing at the prow of the Excalibur, with the wind in his hair and billowing his shirt, free as a bird and soaring just as high, untouchable like the sun.

Merlin couldn't afford such thoughts, not when he was trying to make a new life here at Port St. James. Gaius was the apothecary in the town, and had been looking for an apprentice when Merlin came into his shop, seeking a remedy against his landsickness. Gaius – who apparently knew every soul in Port St. James – had asked him what brought him there and, upon hearing that Merlin's ship had sunk, offered him the position, even though Merlin had no experience at all and nothing going for him in regard to a recommendation.

''You have an honest look about you,'' Gaius had said and added almost wistfully, ''You also remind me of an old friend of mine.''

Merlin had immediately liked the older man and had agreed on the spot. He had been given a room behind Gaius' working chamber, and even if Gaius had not much of a gift for cooking, Merlin never went hungry these days.

Mostly his job was running errants for Gaius, since the old man was feeling his joints and his back ached even on a good day. Sometimes Gaius would send him out to collect herbs or – and that was the worst – have him clean the leech tank, but all in all it was not bad work and Gaius was a kind and generous man. There were no slaps or kicks in Merlin's direction, but a friendly word for every task he accomplished. Merlin often thought that Gaius treated him more like a favourite nephew than the paid help.

So this was why he dragged himself out of bed even though the room kept spinning around him. He didn't want to disappoint Gaius who had taken a chance with Merlin and had done so much for him. He staggered into the workroom that doubled as their living space, where Gaius had already set out two bowls with porridge. He looked up expectantly at Merlin, but his expression immediately changed to one of worry.

''Are you alright, Merlin? You look awfully pale.''

''I'm fine,'' Merlin tried to reassure him. ''Just a bit queasy. Probably still the landsickness.''

Gaius frowned. ''Have you felt sick and dizzy all this time?''

Merlin shrugged but nodded. ''Yeah. Some days more than others. The dizziness has passed, now I'm just feeling nauseous, especially in the mornings. And tired, but I'm not sleeping too well so-''

''Merlin!'' Gaius interrupted, getting up and coming around the table to press a hand against Merlin's forehead. ''You should have told me that you weren't feeling well, my boy. You've been here four months, this can't be landsickness still.''

''Oh?'' Merlin looked at Gaius surprised and the older man rolled his eyes.

''You get landsickness after having been on a ship for a long time because your body struggles to readjust itself to an environment that's not rocking madly all the time. You've been here for four months now, Merlin, your body should have long forgotten the sea.''

Merlin swallowed, he had no idea why but these words made him feel incredibly sad. He didn't want to forget the sea; the memories of a distant horizon, the wind in his face and the taste of salt in his lungs felt incredibly precious. He knew he was being ridiculous, but to his horror he felt his nose clog up and his eyes start burning. He sniffled.

Gaius raised his eyebrow, his default expression when ever Merlin did something weird or stupid. ''No need to be upset, lad. We'll find out what's wrong with you. You certainly don't have a fever,'' he mumbled almost to himself and walked away to pick up a thick tome, muttering quietly and his breakfast apparently forgotten. Merlin eyed his own bowl with the uttermost reluctance but he had discovered that, even though the idea seemed disgusting, eating actually helped ease the nausea. So he sat down and gingerly picked up his spoon, forcing himself to swallow a few bites.

Gaius turned back to him, book in hand and frowned. ''Did you have these spells of sickness before?''

''You mean before coming to Port St. James?''

Gaius nodded.

''No. I was always a weirdly healthy child.''

''Hmmmm...'' Gaius pursed his lips. ''All right, take of your shirt. I'll have to examine you.''

''W-what?''

''Don't be obtuse, Merlin. We have to find out what's wrong with you.''

Feeling hesitant but realising that Gaius was probably right, Merlin pulled his shirt over his head, which prompted Gaius to raise both his eyebrows – an excess he hardly ever resorted to.

''Have you gained weight, lad?'' he asked, obviously astonished.

''Uhm...'' Merlin blushed. ''I don't know, my britches have grown a little tight but I thought they might have shrunk in the wash?''

Gaius just looked at him. Okay, so maybe not.

''Right, lie down on the bench so I can feel your stomach.'' Gaius came over and sat next to him, starting to press down on Merlin's belly, his frown growing deeper and deeper. And then suddenly -

''Ouch!'' Merlin exclaimed, eyes flying to Gaius' ''What was that?''

But Gaius was staring down at Merlin with so much bewilderment that an answer was scarcely to be expected.

''Merlin,'' he said utterly puzzled. ''There seems to be something inside of your belly. Something that... moves.''

Merlin felt his jaw drop. ''Uhm... I guess that's not really... normal?''

Gaius looked at him as if he was a slightly idiotic child. ''Not if you're not a woman. It isn't.''

''W-what? What's that supposed to mean?''

Gaius got up, walking off to fetch another book, throwing the words impatiently over his shoulder. ''It means that even though it should be impossible, you my dear boy appear to be pregnant.''

Merlin gaped. Then he laughed, but it was a uncertain, slightly hysterical sound. ''Yeah, no. That can't be. Men don't get pregnant. I might not know much, but I'm pretty sure that one is a fact.''

Gaius turned back towards him, and now there was sympathy on his face. ''They don't, no. Unless they are-... Merlin, what was your father's name?''

''My father? What's he gotta do with anything?''

Gaius just kept looking at him with questioning eyes.

''Balinor. Balinor Emrys. Why?''

Now Gaius actually cursed, banging the hand that wasn't holding the book on the table. ''I should have known!” he exclaimed. ''You look so much like he did when he was a young man!''

Merlin was sure he could not have been more confused. ''What?'' he asked feebly.

''Why didn't you tell me that you are a Dragon Lord?'' Gaius asked, a mild accusation ringing in his tone.

Oh, apparently he _could_ become more confused. ''A what?'' he asked, looking at Gaius with bewilderment.

The old man sighed. ''A Dragon Lord. I thought Balinor was the last, but then I'd never known that he had fathered a son. Well, apparently not in the traditional way, but then Balinor wasn't exactly a traditional man.''

Merlin stared. ''You... you knew my father?'' he breathed.

Gaius face softened, and he came back to the table, sitting down next to him and taking his hand. ''Yes, lad. I've known your father very well. He was a good friend of mine, and I grieved greatly for him when I heard he'd been killed.''

Merlin swallowed, and bowed his head. ''By pirates,'' he whispered bitterly, trying not to think about how he had trampled his father's memory by consorting with pirates himself, by letting Arthur-

''How would you get that idea?'' Gaius asked with a frown, and for a moment Merlin blinked too confused by now to tell up from down.

''That's what my mum told me.''

''Ah... I see.'' Gaius looked uncomfortable.

''Gaius?''

''Merlin,'' Gaius started hesitantly. ''I'm sure your mother had very good reasons for what she told you, but I believe you have a right to know the truth, seeing as you are an adult now.''

Merlin's stomach twisted and turned. He wasn't sure at all that he really wanted to know what Gaius was about to tell him. His father had always been that shining hero in Merlin's mind, and even now that he _was_ indeed an adult, Merlin clung to that idea.

''Your father, Merlin, was a pirate.''

''What? No. No, that's not right, he was a sailor on a merchant vessel.''

''In the beginning maybe, but Balinor was not someone who easily bowed to authority. Why would he, seeing that he came from such a noble and ancient bloodline?''

Merlin started to shake. This couldn't be. It _couldn't_ be. But Gaius seemed sincere, like he was telling Merlin what he at least believed to be the truth, and so there had to be-

Merlin felt another spell of nausea as his whole world swung around and was promptly turned on it's head. He couldn't take it. Twisting the fabric of his shirt with trembling hands he got up, walking stiffly towards the door.

''Merlin!'' Gaius called worriedly, ''Lad-...''

But Merlin didn't wait to listen to more of what Gaius had to say, he stumbled out of the house and started running.

~*~

Merlin had no idea where he was going, he just kept stumbling ahead, his eyes swimming and his breath ragged in his chest. His head was a jumbled mess of broken thoughts and impossible ideas. He instinctively took the familiar path up to the hilltop where he liked to come in his free hours, just to sit in the grass and stare out at the sea, never admitting to himself that he might actually look out for a mast top.

Now Merlin sank down to the ground in his favourite spot, wrapping his arms around his legs and pulling them against his chest. He buried his face in his knobbly knees and slowly rocked himself in a desperate attempt to make sense of all the things tugging at his heart and guts and hammering against the insides of his head. He'd been on his own for most of his life, but he had never felt it so acutely, and he wished there was something, someone to keep him anchored in a world that suddenly made no sense to him at all anymore. So he allowed himself, for one short moment, to remember strong arms holding him and a smile that was equal parts amused and fond, blue eyes that held the sea and the sky and everything in between.

For a while he just sat there, feeling numb and unable to find the ground to walk on from this point forward, when there was suddenly a flutter – like the wings of a butterfly – somewhere over his bellybutton. Merlin froze. Then he hesitantly put a hand on his stomach, just to feel a small pulse, like a soap bubble bursting under his palm. Feelings of awe flooded him, of a strange protectiveness and love and a fear that wasn't for himself. He knew it should be weird and scary, and it had been in the very first moment, but suddenly the idea of... not something but some _one_ growing inside of him, a person made out of Merlin and Arthur – because who else could it be who helped Merlin create him or her? - felt like the most amazing, fantastic and incredible miracle in the world.

He was carrying a child.

Merlin had grown up with the knowledge that he was different. He could let things float through the air, make fire with just so much as a thought and call for a storm wind when he felt inspired. But this... this was so much more. It was not just a neat trick, it was more than pulling the elements up with his hands to change a small part of the world. This was a life he had created. They both had. Him and Arthur.

Merlin recalled how his magic seemed to almost develop a mind of its own around Arthur, wanting to touch him and hold him close. When he had lain next to Arthur it had simmered happily under his skin and when they had embraced in lustful desire it had bubbled over in golden flames, licking at Arthur's skin. The dreams should have really made it perfectly clear to him how very much he wasn't able to forget Arthur. And Merlin knew why that was. Because he had fallen in love with Arthur. And he had left him for a fairy tale, for the memory of a man he'd never met. He was probably never going to see him again, he would never be able to tell him that he had changed Merlin so completely and that he had left a part of himself behind.

Merlin couldn't hold it in any longer then. All the heartache and the longing and the fear spilled over with his tears, and he buried his face in his hands, as great big sobs shook him. He was unable to stop, and he cried for what felt like hours, feeling as if his old life was pouring out from him, running away like a river to the sea. Afterwards, he felt wrecked, but also as if he had been broken down to his essence and put together anew. Differently, but more complete, even if there was still a piece missing.

He knew that he had better go back and talk to Gaius though. He needed to know more about all of this, about Dragon Lords and how this was supposed to work because Merlin certainly had no idea. He didn't know much about pregnancy and child birth apart from the obvious, and all of that seemed to not apply here.

~*~

Gaius almost jumped up from his chair when Merlin pushed the heavy door to the workroom open, rushing forward with his long silver hair flying. ''Merlin, my boy, where have you been?'' He took Merlin by one shoulder, peering into his face worriedly. ''Are you alright?''

The laugh erupting from his throat was hollow. He glanced at Gaius uncertainly. ''Not really, no,'' he said quietly.

Gaius nodded as if that was to be expected, and put an arm around Merlin's shoulder pulling him towards the table. ''Come. I'll make us some tea,'' he said. ''And then, I am sure, you have a lot of questions.''

Gaius pushed him down in one of the chairs, and for the next minutes Merlin just sat there staring down at the rough surface of the table, listening to Gaius clattering about while preparing tea. He came back with two earthen mugs and the teapot, as well as a strange, dusty bottle. After pouring the tea, he uncorked it and splashed a generous dash of it in his own cup, but only a small drop in Merlin's.

''A little bit to wake your spirits,'' Gaius said. ''Too much might harm the baby though. You have to be careful that you eat healthy and drink enough from now on. You're not only responsible for yourself anymore!''

''Uhm...'' Merlin said.

''When you get tired, lay down a little. And take some more ginger for the nausea. No peppermint or juniper for you anymore-''

''Gaius.''

Gaius turned towards him upon hearing the distress in Merlin's voice, one eyebrow raised in question.

'' _How_ can I be pregnant?'' Merlin asked, worrying his bottom lip with his teeth and looking up at his friend imploringly.

Gaius slumped a little and sighed. ''Oh, Merlin. I'm afraid I don't know all that much about it either. The Dragon Lords were a noble people who commanded – as you might have guessed – dragons.''

''Dragons?'' Merlin repeated disbelievingly.

''Dragons. We are talking about over a thousand years ago, Merlin. That was the time of the dragons. But the world changed, there was no place for such magical creatures anymore, and so they vanished. The last dragon was sighted many centuries ago. And with the new age and new religions dawning, the Dragon Lords became fewer and fewer as well. You see... the traditional way to conceive a Dragon Lord is...'' He coughed. ''Well, the way _you_ obviously did it. Only very few were ever born of a woman. And it's only the first born son who carries the legacy.''

''What legacy?''

''To be able to talk to dragons, to command them to do your biding.''

''Sounds like a crap legacy when there aren't even any dragons around anymore,'' Merlin complained sullenly.

''It's powerful magic, Merlin. You shouldn't dismiss it. And it has obviously gifted you with a child. An heir of your own.''

The concept of an heir felt strange and foreign to Merlin when he still felt like he was barely managing to handle his own life. ''So... there is a baby growing inside of me,'' he said. ''How does _that_ work exactly?''

Gaius raised his eyebrows at him. ''Magic. Obviously.'' Then, seeing Merlin's questioning eyes, he continued. ''Your baby is mostly sustained by your magic. You lack the... uhm... equipment that women have to nurture the unborn child. So you have to take good care of yourself, so that you'll keep your strength.''

''What... what about... uhm... the birth?''

''What about it?''

''Well I don't have... normally the baby would... you know... get out uhm-''

''Oh. Yes. No. That won't be an option.'' Gaius cleared his throat. ''You see, this is where the texts get a little bit vague. Apparently the dragons would normally help with the birth. They were deeply magical creatures themselves. But, well, if nothing else is forthcoming, I guess we will just have to cut it out of you.''

Merlin's eyes grew wide as barn doors, and he swallowed. ''Cut it out?'' he croaked.

But his answer was just another of Gaius' eyebrows, and so Merlin nodded dumbly and took a sip of his tea. Whatever concoction Gaius had put in his cup, he felt as if he had never been more in need of it.

~*~

The following months passed a lot more quickly than Merlin would have liked, seeing as he still felt overwhelmed by the idea of having a child, never mind it actually growing inside his own belly in what he had come to think of as a magical bubble. It had also become more and more difficult to hide his condition when his normally flat stomach had started to protrude. He was wearing loose tunics which hung low over his britches, but since Merlin was such a beanpole otherwise, people were throwing him weird looks already. Merlin had no idea how he was going to cope a few more months down the line when he would probably start to waddle, like he had observed with some pregnant women.

Merlin suddenly noticed pregnant women a lot more than ever before, and sometimes he felt jealous of them. They would proudly rub their bellies and he had overheard them talking and complaining to each other. Merlin on the other hand had only Gaius to talk to, and while the old man was supportive, Merlin sometimes felt like Gaius was overly excited about the scientific side of the whole situation, mostly giving him medical advice but not very good in alleviating Merlin's anxiety.

There was the whole idea of Gaius 'cutting out' the baby at the end, which was a thought Merlin tried to push as far away as possible. But what had Merlin even more worried was what would happen afterwards. He had no idea how to take care of a baby. What if he hurt it accidentally? What if he dropped it? Merlin was after all known to be a little clumsy now and then. All in all, Merlin felt atrociously unprepared to be a father.

Which was probably the reason why he conceded defeat and told Gwen about the whole situation. After the unfortunate being-kidnapped-by-pirates incident the Lady Vivian had been whisked back to the motherland to live with her aunt and uncle, since her father, the admiral, had deemed it too dangerous for her at the hardly civilized colonies. Gwen had not gone with her but decided to stay at Port St. James with her father and brother, so she could help out in the family's smithy.

Merlin had the suspicion though, that the hope to see a certain ship doctor again had been part of her reasons as well. At least if the fact that Gwen had the tendency to bring up Lancelot in every conversation they had, was anything to go by.

So Merlin took Gwen up to his spot on the hilltop to talk, but when they sat next to each other in the fresh green grass, he had no idea how he should go about explaining the situation he was in. After all there was stuff like magic and ancient legends and bloody dragons involved. So he simply took Gwen's hand and put it on his belly. Gwen frowned at him, looking from his worried face to her hand resting on his pretty round stomach.

''Merlin, what-''

That's when the baby kicked, and Gwen pulled her hand away as if it was on fire. For a moment she just stared wide-eyed, then she looked up at him. ''Merlin?'' she asked, her voice full of confusion and maybe just a little fear. ''What... what was that?''

Merlin felt his face heat up, and he bit his lip. ''Uhm... a baby?'' he asked.

He had not thought Gwen's eyes could get any rounder. ''Merlin, are you... Are you a girl!?''

Oh. Yeah, that would probably be the more likely explanation from her point of view.

''No.''

Gwen's forehead creased, and before she could say anything more, he blurted, ''I'm a man, but I am pregnant. Please don't ask me how!''

Her eyebrows nearly crept into her hairline then. ''Merlin. I might not know much, but I know that men don't get pregnant. That's the way it is. So you can't tell me something like this and expect me to not ask any questions!''

Merlin hung his head in defeat. ''I... I might be a little bit magic,'' he mumbled.

''Pardon?''

Sighing a little, Merlin stretched his hand out, his palm facing down to the ground between them. His eyes glinted golden, and Gwen gasped, but then she scrambled to her knees, staring, as a small sprout stretched up from the earth, growing bigger and bigger before it sprang into bloom. Slack-jawed and with her eyes filled with awe, Gwen reached out to reverently touch the beautiful red petals of the lily Merlin had created.

''How did you do this?'' she asked breathlessly.

Merlin shrugged. ''Magic.''

Gwen looked back at him then, rolling her eyes. ''I mean... how is it that you _can_ do something like this?''

''I don't know. I was just born with it. Apparently I'm a... uhm... Dragon Lord. That's what Gaius called it.'' He held up his hand when Gwen opened her mouth. ''No, really, I mean it, don't ask me about that. I don't really understand it myself. But it seems to mean that I get to be the only man with a bun in the oven.''

Gwen slapped him on the arm then. ''Merlin! That's no way to talk about it! It's a baby. A small miracle!'' She hesitated. ''So... uhm... is there a mother involved? A father... anybody else? Or how did this happen exactly?''

Merlin blushed to the roots of his hair. ''I'm no Virgin Mary, if it's that what you're asking... There's a... a father. Another father. I guess.''

Gwen's skin was much darker than Merlin's but even that didn't hide her own blush as she looked down at the folded hands in her lap. ''Oh,'' she said. ''So... uhm... you and... and Arthur? You don't have to tell me! Obviously... I mean... there were rumours... like the crew was... not that they said anything bad but... I didn't know. I mean... I thought....''

''Gwen.'' Merlin reached out to grasp her hand. ''Yes. Me and Arthur. But that's, well... obviously that's over. So now it's just me. Well and Gaius knows about the baby obviously, but... I just... I wanted you to know, because sometimes I feel like I might go crazy. I mean... I don't know if I can do this. Being a father. All on my own.''

''Oh Merlin.'' Gwen hugged him then. ''I promise you won't be on your own. And, you never know... they might come back.''

Merlin laughed sadly. ''Lancelot maybe. But not Captain Prat. I... I think I really hurt him.''

''Arthur Pendragon?'' Gwen asked sceptically.

''Yeah.'' Merlin nodded against her shoulder. ''He asked me to stay. He even said please.''

''Wow. I wouldn't have thought he knew that word.''

Merlin laughed, and then they couldn't help themselves and started to giggle like little girls.

''It's gonna be okay, Merlin,'' Gwen said when their mirth had abated. ''You're not alone in this. Don't ever think that!''

They walked back into town with their arms linked, and Merlin felt lighter, so much lighter, now that his friend was with him in this. Her words kept repeating in his head and, for the first time, Merlin thought he might actually be able to handle all of this.

Of course that was when fate took another, sudden turn.

The cart, stocked high with firewood, seemed to come out of nowhere, rumpling down the hill and shooting right towards them. Merlin had no time to think; he just reacted completely by instinct, pulling up his arms, hands outstretched, and flung the cart away from where it was about to bury Gwen and him _and the baby_ beneath it. The thing went flying and came down on the cobblestones a few yards away with a crash, the wheels giving and the wood spilling over the street. The silence that followed it was even louder though. Merlin could just stare at the wreckage, shaking like a leaf, and then at all the people looking at him with pale, scared faces, as if they had just seen a ghost, or maybe the devil.

Then the first shout came. ''Witchcraft! He's a sorcerer!''

''Have you seen it? He flung that cart away as if it was made from straw!''

''Look at him, his eyes are burning like that of a devil!''

“Sorcery!”

“Warlock!”

“What do you want here?”

“Oh, sweet Mother Mary, abide with me!”

Merlin turned around, meeting Gwen's shocked eyes, and hearing her whispered words.

''Run, Merlin!''

But it was too late by then. There were soldiers coming up the street already, hailed by the commotion. As soon as they heard the hysterical screams and accusations, they grabbed him by his arms and hauled him off into the direction of the fortress, not even giving him a chance to resist or explain. Merlin's heart was beating like it wanted to jump from his chest, and he could all but stumble along, trying not to fall. The blood rushing in his ears was so loud that he didn't hear what the people lining the streets were screaming at him, whispered exaggerations of his deeds rushing ahead of him. Merlin he only saw the angry, hateful and scared faces, swimming into each other, as people pointed at him and made the sign of the cross.

He was dragged over a draw bridge and through a high gate, down some stairs and along a damp hallway, and then the smell of rotten straw and excrements hit him as he was unceremoniously shoved into a cell. Shackles were fastened around his wrists and then the door fell shut behind the guards and there was the sound of a heavy bar being put in place.

Scrambling up on his feet, Merlin stared at the heavy, wooden door with the small, barred window in it. It all had happened too fast for him to comprehend. With his heart still beating wildly, and trying to swallow down the lump of fear in his throat, he took a look around. The only light falling into the dank cell came from another barred window high up under the ceiling, and the room it illuminated was nothing but a small rectangular space with a pile of half-rotten straw in one corner and a bucket in the other.

Merlin tried to breathe through his mouth to escape the smell, and sank down in the furthest corner. He balled his trembling hands into fists and buried them in his lap, staring down at the manacles. Cold iron. Of course it would be cold iron. Merlin swallowed, frantically trying to come up with a plan, a way to get out of this. There _had_ to be a way...

They couldn't prove anything if he denied being a sorcerer, right? Then again the street had been full of people, full of _witnesses_ , and that would probably be prove enough. So he had to somehow escape. Had to get the manacles off and... magic himself out somehow. Yes. That's what he would do. There was no need to panic. It would all be alright.

~*~

''What do you mean, I should confess!?''

Merlin stared at Gaius dumbstruck. He'd been in the cell for half a day already when the door had been opened again for his old friend and mentor, who had stepped inside with a concerned face.

''Merlin, my boy...'' Gaius heaved a deep, sorrowful sigh. ''I don't know what else to tell you. There are about twenty people swearing that they saw you throw back a cart full of firewood which by all natural rights should have crushed you. They say your eyes glowed golden too. The crown's representatives won't let this go. If you deny the accusations, they will submit you to torture.'' Gaius studied him seriously for a moment before he continued. ''They will destroy you, Merlin. You and the baby. And in the end you will beg them to let you confess. I've seen it before. Please... don't put yourself through that.''

Merlin had started shaking his head in denial half way through Gaius' speech. ''No,'' he said. ''No! I can't just give up. I've done nothing wrong!''

''You have used magic, Merlin. And that's against the law.''

''So what... you think I deserve to be... to be burned?'' Merlin stumbled over the last few words, his stomach in knots and his breathing ragged. He looked at Gaius accusingly. ''Because that's what they are gonna do to me, isn't it? If I confess that I'm a sorcerer? They'll burn me at the stake!''

That's when he saw that Gaius was actually shaking himself. The old man looked like someone had dealt him a mortal blow, as if his legs were hardly able to sustain him. This probably more than anything drove the seriousness, the _hopelessness_ of his situation home for Merlin.

''Gaius...'' Merlin made a step towards him, reaching out with one hand. ''Please...''

Gaius pulled him close then, and Merlin buried his face against Gaius' shoulder. ''Of course you don't deserve this, my boy,'' he heard Gaius whisper close to his ear. ''How can you even say that? I would do anything... but I am an old man. Too old to fight a garrison. I won't be of any use to you that way.'' Merlin was shaking with fear now, the feeling almost blinding him. ''I know, lad, I know. But you can't break down now. You have to think of the baby too.''

''I- this can't be happening. Not to me. I have magic. There must be a way to escape...''

Merlin pulled back, clawing at the cold iron, not even realising at first that he was scratching his skin raw.

''Merlin!'' Gaius grabbed him by the wrist. ''Stop. This is not the way. They know you are a sorcerer. They won't give you the opportunity to use your magic. But... maybe we can... buy you some time at least.''

Merlin looked up at the older man, hopefully. Anything. He would do anything to escape the fate of the stake.

''It's, well... a tradition. To... to halt the execution. If the condemned is found to be with child. We will have to tell them that you are pregnant.''

''But -... That's only one more reason they will think I'm in league with the devil or something!'' Merlin protests. ''We would only make it worse!''

''My dear boy, there's nothing we can do to make it worse. But this is an act of mercy we can invoke.''

''You... you really think so?'' Merlin whispered.

Gaius pushed him back by his shoulders and looked him in the eyes with a determined expression. ''I will talk to the judges on your behalf. I'm respected in this town. They won't dismiss my word so easily.''

Merlin nodded. ''Okay. Okay. It's gonna be alright. Yeah?''

Gaius eyes softened, and he put one of his wrinkled, trembling hands against Merlin's cheek. ''I will do what I can, Merlin. I promise you that.''

~*~

 _It's gonna be alright. It's gonna be alright._ That was the one thought that kept repeating in Merlin's mind the next day, when he was brought in front of the judge. He was stumbling a little, still cuffed and chained in cold iron; two days in the dungeons had left him covered in grime, his clothes dirty and rumbled. The room he was led into was stifling from the summer heat, the air humid and saturated with other people's sweat. It was making Merlin's stomach turn. Almost worse were the looks people gave him though. They varied, from curious to contemptuous and gleeful, but there was no sympathy to be found, no kindness. As much as Merlin tried not to admit it, not even to himself, it scared him.

The judge himself was an older, stern looking man with cold eyes, who stared down at him expressionless, and Merlin realised with a sinking heart that it would be foolish to expect mercy from this man; he didn't look like he even knew the concept. Neither did the other two men, esteemed citizen of Port St. James, who were flanking the judge on both sides. And it were these three men who held Merlin's fate in their hands.

The man on the left was someone Merlin knew, but that certainly wasn't a relief. The blond man with the strange eyes was the towns physician – even though most people rather came to Gaius than to Edwin Muirden – and Merlin had always found his stares disconcerting. The way he was watching Merlin now, his eyes almost hungry, made a shiver run down his spine.

''Merlin Emrys, you've been accused of witchcraft and sorcery before this court,'' the judge addressed him as soon as Merlin came to stand in front of the dais. ''There are witnesses, honest citizens of this town, who have seen you use magic. Do you admit to have dealt with the devil? To having bewitched the good people of this town and practised unnatural skills to further your own twisted gains?''

Merlin swallowed nervously, looking at Gaius – who was standing next to him - for help. The old man grimaced, but nodded.

''Uhm...,'' Merlin started, ''I don't really know about the devil, but I do have magic. I... I was born with it! And I admit that I used it. To keep that cart from crushing me and Gwen.''

''What other evil deeds have you done in the name of the Adversary?''

''I don't know... I sometimes heat up my bathwater?'' Merlin tried to stifle his nervous laugh, coughing a little. ''Or, well, light a fire and such. Small things really.''

The judge frowned, obviously unimpressed with Merlin's skills and nodded at the scribe at the furthest end of the table to take note of it.

''Is there anything else you want to add to your defence?'' he asked dismissively, turning back to Merlin. He was obviously not seeing any need to drag this out, now that Merlin had confessed. ''Do you want to renounce your alliance with the Prince of Darkness and recant your evil ways so that you may find your way back to God?''

''Uhm... sure. That sounds good?''

Merlin looked at Gaius again, who looked at him like he couldn't believe the kind of idiot he was, which was incredibly unfair, because what was Merlin supposed to say to all this blather? Gaius shook his head and then stepped forward, addressing the judge.

''Your honour, we ask you to take into account, that there is no evidence whatsoever that my... nephew has at any point used his powers to cause harm. He is a bit of an idiot, but not a malicious one.''

''Be that as it may, he has broken the king's law. Any kind of sorcery is a craft of the devil.''

Gaius nodded resigned. ''Then we just ask Your Honour to show mercy. Because there is another thing to consider. Some rather... unusual circumstances.''

''And what circumstances would that be?''

''My nephew is pregnant.''

For a long moment the room was drowned in silence. Then the judge groused, ''What is this nonsense? He is a man, as I am sure you have realised!''

''Yes, Your Honour, but he belongs to the ancient bloodline of the Dragon Lords, who have always been able to carry children.''

''Dragon Lords?'' Edward Muirden interrupted him with a sneer. ''Really? What is this... more lunatic stories, Gaius? Are we really supposed to believe such a thing?''

Gaius stiffened, but then raised his head and fixed his gaze on the judge, ignoring Muirden. ''Merlin is with child, Your Honour. And as you well know, every unborn child is innocent and may not be harmed.''

The judge frowned, obviously torn between a measure of respect for Gaius and the pure outrageousness of the story he was telling. ''What kind of devilish things are this you're talking about, Gaius? If what you are saying should indeed be true, it only proves that this boy is even more depraved than we thought. Surely it could only be another act of sorcery!''

''While magic might be involved in its conception, the child nevertheless is _innocent_.''

''If there _is_ a child, which I shall not believe upon your word alone!''

''I would not presume so, Your Honour. Would you be satisfied if dear Alice here confirms the boy's condition? As a midwife she has the experience and knowledge to tell whether Merlin is with child or not.''

A woman that Merlin had often seen frequenting Gaius' apothecary stepped forward then. ''Your Honour, if you will, I can examine the boy.''

Before the judge could answer though, Muirden had got up from his seat. ''Nonsense. I am a physician. I can prove the absurdity of this tale quite well myself.'' He came around the high table and planted himself in front of Merlin expectantly. ''Well then,'' he said. ''Lift your shirt, boy!''

Merlin hesitated for a second, but then reluctantly pulled up the tunic to expose his slightly extruding belly. Muirden's eyes narrowed in a frown. His hand on Merlin's skin was cold, and strangely invasive, as the man felt around and pushed with his fingers. When the baby obviously had enough of this treatment and kicked back, Muirden's eyes widened and then flew up to meet Merlin's. ''What-'' he said, taking a step backwards.

''What is it, Muirden?'' the judge asked, and the physician whipped around.

''There's something. Something inside of him,'' he said somewhat hesitantly, and then glared at Gaius who just raised a smug eyebrow at him. ''Still... seeing that he is a sorcerer, this child must surely be the spawn of the devil? How else could it have been conceived than by fornicating in some way with a demon?''

''What? No!'' Merlin cried, pulling his shirt back down over his stomach. ''I didn't! It isn't! That's not true!''

The judge looked at him haughty but pensive. ''Then what can you say to that? How did you come to be in this condition?''

''Uhm...'' Merlin felt himself blushing to the tips of his ears. ''I had... relations. With a man.''

''So then you are a sodomite as well?'' Muirden asked, with a scornful smile, and Merlin glared at him. ''If that is true, then you surely can tell us the name of the man who... _fathered_ this child?''

Merlin hesitated. He knew that Muirden hoped Merlin would incriminate someone else. He could lie of course, but then he had to think of Gwaine's words. _We're all facing the gallows for piracy anyway, what's a little buggery on the way to hell?_

''The father of my child is Captain Arthur Pendragon,'' he said, rising his chin defensively.

There was a hissing sound going through the room, and then the third man of the panel, who had been silent so far, leaned forward with an almost eager expression. ''The pirate?'' he asked.

''Consorting with pirates as well!'' Muirden called, but the judge raised a hand to silence him.

''The Lady Vivian, Admiral Morrison's daughter, was held ransom by that man a few months ago, together with her maid and a boy. Is that prisoner you, Merlin Emrys?''

''Yes.'' Merlin swallowed. He knew what they were thinking, and it was probably to his advantage, but suddenly he couldn't stand the thought of betraying Arthur like that. ''But I wasn't forced. I laid with him willingly, and thus conceived this child.'' Merlin put his hand on his abdomen for all to see. Protective but maybe also a little bit proud.

''Hmmm... Well there is the chance that this is an innocent life, even if it was conceived by a pirate and a sorcerer - as you have confessed that you are. Your own life is therefore forfeit. But we will show mercy to the child you're carrying,'' the judge looked at Muirden, whose face was twisted in an ugly scowl, and the other man, who nodded. Then he turned his cold eyes on Merlin again. ''You, Merlin Emrys are sentenced to death by the authority his Majesty King Charles has invested in me. Your execution shall be stayed for the next hundred days though, to allow you to carry your child to term. After that you shall be burned at the stake.''

When Merlin was brought back to his cell, he was shaking, but he forced himself to take calm breaths. Everything was gonna be alright. He had a hundred days to get out of here.

On the other side of the world, or at least the other side of the ocean, Captain Arthur Pendragon was not the same man he used to be. The siren call of the man who'd captured his heart kept tugging at his insides no matter how many seas he might try to put between them. Long, pale limbs tangled themselves around him in the night, but then he woke – every dam night he was torn from sleep, searching for the elusive warmth of another's body – only to find them gone.

Arthur would lie awake then, stretched out on his back on the cool sheets, and stare at the ceiling. Not even the gentle rolling of the Exalibur able to rock him back to sleep. When the minutes stretched into hours, Arthur would rise and climb up on deck, relieving whoever held the helm and steering his ship through the night into the first light of morning.

The men became more guarded, because Arthur's patience was short these days, and so it came as a bit of a surprise when Gwaine knocked on the door to his cabin, after they escaped by a hairbreadth from their last fray.

''What is it, Gwaine?'' Arthur asked, pulling his swordbelt over his head and tossing it onto his desk. He stepped to his washstand, pouring water from a jug to wash the blood from his face and hands.

''The men are concerned,'' Gwaine started, only to be interrupted by Arthur.

''They needn't be.''

''Excuse me, Captain, but today did hardly help to scatter our worries!''

Arthur turned around and shot Gwaine a glare. ''I had a plan, and that plan worked. The men should damn well trust me, since I never steered them wrong so far!''

''No. Not yet.''

Arthur was in front of Gwaine with three quick strides, crowding the other man against the door. ''What's that supposed to mean? You've got something to say, Gwaine? Then spit it out!''

''Captain- _Arthur_ , you can't go on like this. You must know that.'' Arthur just glared and raised his eyebrows. So maybe he did know that, didn't mean he had to admit it. ''You barely sleep. You take stupid risks. And I can't even remember the last evening you spent with the lads instead of cooping yourself up in your cabin whenever you're not running yourself ragged on the ship, or shouting at the boys. If you feel bored, or need to get laid, then let's find some port with a decent tavern and a brothel and-''

Something must have shown on Arthur's face then, because Gwaine stopped mid-rant, and there was a strange mixture of glee and pity in his expression now. ''Oh,'' he said. ''This is what's this about, yeah?''

''I have no idea what you are talking about.''

''Merlin.''

Arthur scowled and Gwaine smiled triumphantly. ''Well, if you miss the lad, why don't you go after him? That boy had it so bad for you, he'd follow you in a second!''

''Apparently he didn't!'' Arthur grit out through clenched teeth.

''Well, maybe you should have asked him to, princess!''

Arthur turned on his heel and stalked towards his desk, unable to look at Gwaine's cheerful face any longer. ''I did,'' he said quietly, and that finally shut the other man up. ''So I'd be grateful if you kept your opinion about my private affairs to yourself from now on.''

There was a mumbled string of curses, but then Arthur heard Gwaine opening the door. ''Captain,'' he said with more respect than he normally put into that title, and the door fell shut behind him.

Arthur closed his eyes and tried to take deep breaths, but it didn't help much. He knew Gwaine was right, and that only made it worse. He'd always prided himself on being a good captain, a good and level-headed leader, and their coop today had nearly failed. It might have been a success in the end, but there had been a moment when things nearly had blown up. Literally. And the men knew it.

In a fit of helpless rage and frustration, Arthur grabbed the inkwell and threw it, but it didn't ease the turmoil inside of him when it hit the wall with a crash. Arthur slumped down in his chair, burying his head in his hands and pulling on his hair. He needed to forget about Merlin, once and for all, before he not only lost his sanity but the trust and loyalty of his crew as well.

This was probably what going insane felt like, Merlin thought. He'd been in this small, dank, stinking cell for thirty days already; that's what the marks on the wall said at least, and he'd been counting them often enough. Not like there was much else to do. Thirty days and not a single step closer to escape. It was as if everyone had already given up on him. Gaius was allowed to see him once a week to see to his health and that of the baby, and Gwen occasionally brought him food. They both had that look on their faces then, full of sympathy and sorrow, and it made Merlin's blood boil. He wasn't dead yet, so why were they looking at him like that? Why didn't they do anything to help him instead of wallowing in their pity, which was completely useless to him?

He sat up straighter, stretching his legs out in front of him, but his attempts to find a comfortable position failed as they always did. Everything ached. His back was killing him and his legs were stiff. They had given him a thin mattress and a blanket when Gaius had told them to, but the rats were gnawing on it, and there simply was no posture that would grant him more than an hour of sleep at a time. Merlin had taken up waddling along the length of his cell, but there was too little room and it only helped to emphasise how cooped up he was, how long it had been since he had seen the sun or breathed air that didn't taste of rat piss and mould.

The baby seemed as restless as Merlin was, either making somersaults or kicking him in the guts, but it was still the one being Merlin couldn't find it in him to be angry at. It was also his only company, after all, and so he was talking to it, humming old lullabies he remembered his mum singing to him when he was a child, even if he couldn't recall the words.

When Gwen arrived a little later with a tray, Merlin just stared up at her in sullen silence. She crouched down next to him, set the tray on the ground and put a hand on his shoulder, meant to be comforting. But her sympathy was more than he could take at that moment, and so he shook of her touch, dragging himself to his feet with the chains jangling and turning his back on her.

''Merlin...'' Gwen said, sounding uncertain and a bit confused. Yeah, well, too bad for her because Merlin wasn't in a mood to explain why he was in a mood. ''Are you alright?'' she asked and Merlin whipped around with an incredulous laugh.

''Why sure, Guinevere, thanks for asking!'' he said sarcastically, painting a fake smile on his face. ''The accommodations are awesome, the view's excellent and the food simply to die for!'' He cocked his head. ''Oh, no, wait... that was the sorcery. You know, when I used my magic to save your life! But hey, look at that, you brought me stew! So I guess, we're even!''

Gwen looked at him as if he'd slapped her, and well, he probably had in a figurative sense. When her lip wobbled slightly and she blinked, Merlin felt a stab of guilt in his gut but he tried to shove it away. It wasn't her who was locked up in the dungeons. It wasn't her who was going to be executed, and would get to feel her skin blister and her flesh liquefy.

''I'm sorry...'' Gwen whispered tear-stricken. ''You know, if there was anything I could do-''

''Well there isn't, is there?'' Merlin spat, trembling slightly because really – he didn't like to think about the stake and the fire and the torture it would be. ''Nobody can. But you are all very sorry about it, I know.''

A tear ran down Gwen's cheek and she pulled herself up straighter. ''Maybe Arthur- if we could find him-''

''How would we do that? He could be anywhere! Sailing on his stupid ship without a care in the world. And even if we could find him...'' Merlin swallowed. ''It's not like he could do anything. He probably wouldn't even care.''

''That's not true, Merlin, you must know that!''

''Why would he? I probably was just some convenient distraction! It's not like it meant anything. He's a pirate, he doesn't care about anything else but himself, and he certainly wouldn't want to be burdened by a freak of a sorcerer and a baby!''

''You don't know that!''

''No? Well, I know one thing: It doesn't matter either way because he's gone. And he won't come back. And you know what? Neither will Lancelot. He's probably shagging some other girl already as we speak!''

''I... I know you're upset. And I'm sorry. You don't know how sorry I am. Maybe you should eat something... And sleep a little. You need rest.''

''I don't need rest!'' Merlin roared, beating his fist against the stone wall with a loud clang from the manacle on his wrist. ''I need to get out of here! But it's not like anyone of you is helping with that!''

''We try, Merlin.'' Gwen said through her tears. ''We try all we can.''

''Well apparently it isn't enough.''

''That's enough, Arthur. Christ almighty, you need some rest!''

Lancelot was standing in front of Arthur in the pale moonlight of a cloudless night, glaring at him across the steering wheel with his arms crossed.

Arthur scowled, choosing not to meet his friends eyes. ''Isn't that a bit hypocritical, telling me to sleep when you run around on deck in the middle of the night as well?''

''Percival woke me after you relieved him. He said it was the same for the last four watches he took. Are you sleeping at all?''

''Of course I am!'' Arthur scoffed, rolling his eyes. But then he felt compelled to add, ''Just not very much.''

Lancelot sighed, stepping closer. ''Listen, my friend. I know something is bothering you, plaguing you even. But I can't help you if you don't tell me what it is.''

''I'm not sure you can help me either way,'' Arthur mumbled, looking down at where his hands held the wheel of the Excalibur. It was the only thing that brought him some measure of peace these days.

''Is this...'' Lancelot hesitated, his manners telling him not to pry but his doctor's instincts pushing him to ask. ''Is this about Merlin?''

Arthur jerked his head up, meeting his friends eyes with a suspicious frown. ''Did Gwaine talk to you?''

''No. But it's not as hard to guess as you might think.''

Arthur winced a little, closing his eyes in embarrassment for a moment. He trusted his men, especially Lancelot and Leon, but that didn't mean he liked the thought that his innermost feelings were so easily to discern.

''I dream of him,'' Arthur said quietly. ''Every night.''

''Oh.'' He wasn't able to tell in the moonlight, but from Lancelot's expression, Arthur was reasonably sure that a blush was tainting his cheeks. ''If that's the problem...,'' Lancelot began delicately.

Arthur shot him an angry glare. ''If you tell me I need to get laid, this conversation is over.'' Lancelot held up his hand, but Arthur could see that he was trying - and failing – to hide a smile. ''I'm really glad my difficulties are so amusing to you,'' he grit out.

His friend's face immediately sobered. ''I'm sorry,'' he said seriously. ''It's just... I'm not telling you to find some other warm body. But maybe you should come with us when we reach port tomorrow. Some distraction will do you good. There really isn't much else but that and time to heal a broken heart.''

Arthur's eyes widened and he choked a little. ''A broken what?'' he croaked. ''Don't be ridiculous, this is... this has nothing... I'm not in... in..''

''In love with him?''

''No!''

''Ah.'' Lancelot nodded, but there was a knowing smile on his face Arthur would have loved to punch. ''Then some fun and drink should be right up your alley. No need to wallow in misery about a boy you're not even in love with, right?''

''Right:''

~*~

The atmosphere in the tavern was loud and raucous, like taverns in these kind of ports, where the influence of kings and governors didn't reach, tended to be. It was already grating on Arthur's nerves. He was sitting on a table in the far corner with Leon and Lancelot, while Gwaine was procuring them another round of drinks, and was letting his gaze sweep over the crowd of sailors, harlots and petty crooks. Most were indulging in the taverns own cheap ale and watered down rum, some were dicing and gambling and others were ogling the not small amount of skin on display. But Arthur's keen eyes could make out the few tables were something else, something more, was going on. Where deals were made in the secrecy this kind of public place granted.

Arthur might not be a friend of these dens of iniquity, but it was where you got the most interesting information and the contacts for all things useful in his trade. Arthur himself was too well known for this though; people recognized him and were intimidated by him and any secrets offered to him were normally grossly overpriced. Gwaine on the other hand was good at keeping his eyes and ears open, easy to talk to. So were Elena, Owain and Pelinor, all in their own way. His eyes sought them out in the large, crowded room and found them obviously making the best of it. With a small, proud grin Arthur drained his cup.

''Well, well, well, if that isn't the great Captain Arthur Pendragon,'' a sardonic voice came from behind his back, and Arthur had to keep himself from tensing with no small effort. He knew that voice, and the presence of its owner never boded well.

''Captain Le Fay,'' he said, leaning back in his chair and looking up at the beautiful woman with a lazy smile. Morgana Le Fay stared down at Arthur with unabashed contempt. He had no idea really why it was that she disliked him so much. Sure, he had snatched a treasure or two from under her nose, but that was not unusual in their business. It happened to all of them. But nevertheless she had been spitting at him like an angry alley cat from the moment he had first set a foot on the pier of Tortuga. She'd slapped him before he ever had a chance to speak a word to her, so he was reasonably sure it hadn't been something he'd said.

The grin with which she regarded him now was smug and full of scorn. ''So, Pendragon... I heard you caught yourself a sorcerer and then let him go... not too bright of you, was it?''

Arthur frowned at her in surprise. ''What? How would you know about that?''

''Oh it's all over the grapevine,'' she said, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder with a dismissive shrug. ''Now that he's been found out and sentenced to burn.''

Arthur saw the small curl of glee at the corner of her mouth, the prove how much she enjoyed telling him this, but he couldn't really puzzle over that fact, not when his heart had been grabbed by the icy hand of fear, squeezing his lifeblood out from it. The spasm in his chest reminded him to breath, but whatever it had been that passed over his face for that moment, it had been enough.

Morgana cocked her head. ''Oh... so he means something to you. Interesting. Who would have thought...'' She put a finger to her lips musingly. ''I wonder what some more information would be worth to you.''

Arthur knew that he'd been caught. He knew that this would cost him, but strangely enough he couldn't care less about that. ''What do you want?'' he asked, his voice distant and cold.

Morgana smiled. ''Leon.''

Leon, to his credit, did only give her an amused look.

''Unlike you I don't hold my men as slaves,'' Arthur said mildly - even though it took all of his willpower to keep his hands from shaking. ''Leon is not mine to give.''

Morgana pouted. ''All right,'' she said. ''The Excalibur then.''

That actually made Arthur choke. ''My ship... for what? For you to tell me that Merlin's dead?'' he spat, and hell and damnation, it hurt to just say the words.

'' _Merlin_? Is that his name?'' Morgana said, picking up a cup from the table – Lancelot's actually – to take a sip. ''Well... what if I tell you he isn't?''

She put the cup down and stretched her hand out to Arthur for the customary handshake to seal the deal, and maybe it was crazy but Arthur felt his own hand moving forward, when it was suddenly grabbed. Looking up he saw Gwaine standing next to their table, his arm around the neck of a slender boy, who looked like he had barely started to shave.

''Looky what I found,'' Gwaine drawled. ''This is Mordred, and he just told me the most amazing story.''

If looks could kill, Morgana's glare would have dropped Gwaine where he stood. Or maybe Mordred, it wasn't really clear whom she was aiming at.

''Really?'' It was Arthur's turn to drawl and send a smug look at Morgana. ''And what's that?''

Gwaine's eyes lost their amused expression, turning serious instead when he looked at Arthur. ''That a boy called Merlin was found out to be a sorcerer and was sentenced to death in Port St. James.''

Arthur closed his eyes. He had not wanted to believe it when Morgana told him thus, but now... He could see it in front of his mind's eye. The town square. The stacked wood and, in the centre of it, shackled to a pole... Merlin. With his slim body and long limbs, the black hair like a halo of darkness, but his eyes full of innocence. He could see the flames licking at his feet, could see them blazing higher, obscuring the sharply drawn face, turning it into a mask of agony.

''But his execution was stalled,'' Gwaine's voice drifted into his conscience. ''For a hundred days. Because...'' He laughed disbelievingly. ''He apparently has a bun in the oven. Damn, Pendragon, you don't do things by halves do you?''

''What?'' Arthur asked uncomprehendingly. ''What are you talking about?''

''You knocked him up good!'' Gwaine said cheerfully, and Arthur contemplated to punch him but turned to the more interesting victim instead. He grabbed Mordred by the lapels of his shirt.

''What is he talking about!?'' he growled, and the boy looked at him with wide, fearful eyes.

''There's... uhm... they say there's a man at Port St. James. A man called Merlin Emrys. He was put on trial for practising sorcery. But when they condemned him to death, it was revealed that he's with child!''

Arthur looked down at the boy's eager and excited face. ''What kind of old wives tale is this? A pregnant man, that's probably the most idiotic thing I've ever heard!'' Arthur sneered, trying not to let the shock and desperation show on his face. His heart was hammering in his chest, not because of the nonsense the boy was sprouting but because of the idea alone that Merlin... how old was this story? How many days of the hundred had passed already?

''Well, why am I not surprised,'' Morgana spat. ''Like father, like son I guess.''

''What?''

''That boy named you as the father of his child, Pendragon. But why should that mean something to you, right? It's probably just one of many bastards you sired all over the world.''

''I don't have time for that,'' Arthur said, shaking his head. He had no idea what Morgana was on about, or why she was so angry about this, but he had more important things to consider. He turned to Leon. ''We set sail immediately, round up the lads.''

''Captain.'' Leon stood up to follow his orders, but the look he shot him was questioning and worried.

''If this is true, if Merlin was given a stay of execution, then there's a chance he's still alive. It's a chance I have to take. He saved us all in the storm. I owe him this.''

If any of his men had doubts about his reasoning, they didn't comment on it. They simply gave him sharp nods and got up to do their part in bringing the preparations for their hastened departure under way. It left Arthur standing at the table alone with Morgnana, who regarded him with an unreadable expression.

''You're really going after him?'' she asked sceptically.

''Yes.''

''And if he really is with child?''

The look in her eyes was a challenge, but Arthur found that he had no difficulties meeting it.

''I guess then I have to learn how to be a father,'' he said, before turning on his heal and stalking out of the tavern and into the night.

''I'm really sorry, you know,'' Merlin whispered. ''I wish I could be your father. I really want to. I didn't have a father when I grew up. I always wondered how it would have been, if he had lived. Will you wonder that too, do you think? Or won't you even know about me? Will there be anyone to tell you? Please don't forget me, okay? I won't leave you because I want to. I... I will love you. I'm pretty sure I would love you so much if I would get to see you grow up. And I will love you from where ever I am. Just don't be angry with me. Don't hate me, okay?''

Merlin swallowed, staring down at the bulging raise of his stomach. He could see the child moving, an elbow or maybe a knee poking against the stretched skin, and tried to concentrate on this little being, tried to give it all the love he had, tried to let his magic flood it with all the feelings he would probably never get to express. He felt weak and a little dizzy, but he just wanted him or her to _know_. Wanted his child to have some vague idea, some impression of the father it never would get to meet. Everything else didn't matter anymore.

Merlin knew there was no hope left. He looked at the marks on he wall opposite. There were so many now. He knew the number. He didn't have to count, and he stopped doing so after he made the tenth diagonal and realised that half of his time had run out and no one had come. No one would be coming after all, only the executioner at the end when he had made just as many lines on the wall for a second time.

Sixty-nine. That's how many there were now. It would be over soon. The stake was waiting. The flames that would burn him and melt him and then hopefully take him away from this place.

He didn't have the strength to walk around the cell anymore, even if Gaius encouraged him to, telling him he needed to preserve the strength in his muscles. Merlin didn't see the point. The less there was of him, the faster he'd be burned to ash and could finally have his peace.

He looked down at his wrist. Not much there anymore but skin and bone, but the cold iron still gripped tightly around it. He had become gaunt. Gaius was worried because the baby drained his energy and his magic and the cold iron prevented Merlin from drawing more from the earth. Merlin didn't care. Sustaining his child was the job he was here for. The only reason why he wasn't dead yet. It might as well take all of him, and leave nothing for the executioner but an empty shell.

The Excalibur flew over the water, the sails billowing with the steady wind and the spray from the bow hitting the deck in flecks. Arthur stood at the helm himself, needing to feel the wind in his face, a constant reminder that he was on his way, that he was coming...

_Merlin, I'm coming. I'm coming..._

The wind had been favourable, but even if it stayed that way, Arthur knew it would probably take them another two weeks to reach Port St. James. A stretch that seemed impossible long, too long really, since Arthur had no idea when Merlin's time would run out. As it was the case with rumours, the story about Merlin's fate had gotten more vague and probably more exaggerated in equal parts each time it was retold, and neither Mordred nor Morgana had been able to give Arthur a date set for the execution.

He had been at sea for four days already, whipping the Excalibur forward, his crew straining to squeeze out another dram of speed from the sails. Each morning when the sun rose at the horizon he asked himself whether this day would be Merlin's last. Whether he was already too late. He couldn't banish the image of Merlin burning and screaming in agony from his mind; it followed him into his dreams and woke him crying out and sobbing, tangled in his sheets and bathed in sweat.

Captain Arthur Pendragon had slowly come to accept that, after having believed himself adamant to the more gentle emotions for all his life, it had only taken a young man with too big ears and too innocent eyes to capture his heart and run away with it, leaving Arthur bereft and empty. Letting Merlin go might have been hard and painful, but the idea of Merlin gone from this world, of his gentle soul irreprievely lost made Arthur's blood freeze in his veins and his heart ache so much he was constantly close to vomitting. It couldn't come to this. It couldn't. Arthur had to avert this. He had to.

However much he wished his ship to move faster though, he could not effect a miracle, and the days dragged along much too slowly. Arthur found himself trapped in surroundings he had never before felt confining, alone with his fears and thoughts. And however much he tried to shove it away, the one thought that kept coming to him was that of the child. The impossible child. It had to be a fairy tale, an absurd idea thought up by sailors in need of a good story to tell. But at night, when Arthur stood at the bow of his ship, looking down at the black waters of the sea, the idea wriggled back into his mind with whispers of 'what if'.

What if it was possible? What if it was true?

Merlin was a sorcerer, Arthur himself had seen him do unbelievable things. Somehow, where Merlin was concerned, nothing seemed completely impossible, not when he had already irrevocably changed everything Arthur knew about the world and about himself.

A child. His child. His and Merlin's. Dear god... what if?

Merlin had left all thoughts of what if behind him. There had been a point where he had dwelt on it. Making up all the possible ways his life and this situation could have turned out if he had done something differently. What if he had not taken that path back to town. What if he had not decided to tell Gwen at all. What if he had never met Arthur Pendragon. What if he had stayed. It was the last one that had cut the deepest. Because, if he was honest with himself, it was the only true regret he had: that he had not stayed when Arthur asked him to.

But Merlin had let go off that now too. It had been his decision, he had made it and had to accept the consequences. He just wished he could have seen Arthur for one last time. Could have told him that he was sorry. That he had been wrong. That Arthur had meant more to him than anyone else he'd ever met. That the days spent with him had been the happiest in Merlin's life.

The door to his cell creaked open then and Merlin pulled himself up on shaky legs, holding on to the wall for support when his knees almost buckled.

It was Gaius, and Merlin managed a small smile for his friend, who looked like he had aged a decade since Merlin had been arrested.

''Merlin, my dear boy.'' Gaius' smile was wobbly. ''How are you today?''

''I'm fine.''

Gaius raised an eyebrow at him, a gesture he had not seen for a while and that made Merlin feel incredibly fond of the old man.

''Really,'' he said, trying to sound reassuring. ''I'm good. I don't think it will take much longer.''

''Merlin...''

Merlin shook his head, holding out one hand for Gaius to take it, squeezing it weakly when he did. ''It's alright, Gaius. This is how it is. We've known it was coming.''

''There is still time...,'' Gaius tried. ''Maybe...''

''No. No maybes anymore. Please, Gaius.'' Merlin closed his eyes and put Gaius' hand on top of his round belly. ''She is all that matters now.''

''She?'' Gaius asked, and Merlin could hear the frown in his voice. He nodded.

''Yes. I think it's a girl.'' He opened his eyes, looking at the older man before him, searching and full of hope. ''Can I trust you to take care of her? You and Gwen?''

A tear slid silently down Gaius' wrinkled cheek, but he nodded. ''Of course, my boy. You can rely on me. I won't let any harm come to her.''

Merlin swallowed, and squeezed Gaius' hand again. ''Thank you. That's all I need to know.''

Merlin could see the worry in his friend's eyes when he pulled up the dirty rag his tunic had become. He knew he was barely more than skin and bones at this point, his huge belly looking absurd in relation to his thin frame. Gaius' hands, as always, were gentle and sure, and when he gave him a nod and smile, a strange sort of calm elation overcame Merlin.

''She's alright?''

''As far as I can tell, yes. Seems to be a strong one, that little lady.''

''She would be,'' Merlin said with a smile, stroking his belly and thinking of Arthur holding on in the storm. ''Just like her father.''

''Yes,'' Gaius said, and his eyes when he looked at Merlin were full of pride and sorrow. ''Just like her father.''

''Captain!'' The cry came in the early morning hours of the ninth day, and Arthur immediately knew it didn't bode well.

''What is it Owain?''

''Mast tops. A lot of them.''

Arthur's blood ran cold in his veins. ''Where?'' he called up to the lookout.

''West-north-west. Way we're headed we're running right in front of their barrels.''

''Hell and damnation!'' Arthur cursed, bumping his wrist against the side of the ship. ''Ready about!'' he shouted, and the men ran and scampered up the shrouds as Arthur ran up to the helm, taking the wheel from Gwaine.

Gwaine looked at him with serious eyes. ''Arthur...''

''I know Gwaine. But we can't take on a whole armada. They'll blow us off the water.''

''Merlin-''

Arthur briefly closed his eyes. ''Will have to hold out a little longer,'' he said, and then, with the determination of a man drowning grabbed the wheel and turned.

The ship came around sharply, the sails flapping for a moment until the men were able to adjust them again for their new bearing. They had lost ground due to the manoeuvre though, and when the Excalibur started to gather speed again, the ships on the horizon were already visible with the naked eye. There were six of them; though something told Arthur that this was not the whole extent of the trap they had walked into. He was proven right when Owain shouted from the main mast again a good half an hour later.

''Captain! There are three more! Starboard! They're all flying the Jack.''

Arthur gritted his teeth, and cursed. He'd known it. They'd set up a classical trap. Nine ships was a lot though; it seemed the admirals were really determined to catch him this time.

''Arthur,'' Leon said quietly, on his left. ''These are far too many for us. What do you want to do?''

Arthur bit his lip, trying to think fast. Leon was right. They couldn't win in an open sea battle against that many ships. If they stayed to fight, they would be surrounded, their escape route cut off, and then they'd be easy pray.

''Throw everything over board that we don't need,'' Arthur said finally, looking at Leon determinedly. ''Everything.''

''What are you up to?'' Leon asked, eyes narrowed in a confused frown.

''There's a small archipelago ahead. The waters are too shallow for a ship to safely pass. That's probably why they set the trap here, thinking that we won't be able to flee in that direction.''

''Then how will that help us?''

''We have to loose all the weight we can spare,'' Arthur explained. ''Take the furniture first, the rum, the provisions, the water. Then the treasure. If that's not enough... throw the cannons over board.''

''The cannons?''

''If necessary. You just said yourself they won't be of any use to us.''

Leon swallowed; it was obvious that he didn't feel too confident about dismantling the ship, but he nodded his assent. ''Aye, Captain!'' Then he turned to the crew, bellowing, ''All right, lads, take everything that's not bolted down and throw it over board.'' His eyes glinted with a desperate amusement when he threw a glance back to Arthur where he stood at the helm. ''Start in the Captain's cabin.''

Arthur raised his eyebrows at him and just shook his head. It wasn't as if his furniture could be spared.

''Just leave my sextant and compass alone, will you?'' he shouted far more good-naturedly than he felt. ''If anyone of you wants us to get out of here.''

Over the next hour the Excalibur left a trail of debris at the bottom of the sea, and Arthur watched as beds, and armours, boxes and kitchenware sank into the waters below them. The Excalibur gained more and more speed, but at the same time the passage between the approaching ships became more and more narrow. Finally, the armada was close enough for Arthur to train his telescope at the enemy ships and identify the faces of their crew.

The flagship was easy enough to find; it was the biggest and most heavily armed in all the ships of the line - The Glory of England - but Arthur was not impressed. He had always favoured a ship with sleeker lines and greater speed over the sitting ducks that the new modern warships had become. Then he found her commander. Admiral Olaf Morrison had apparently not been amused by Arthur's ransom demand. With a frown Arthur trained his telescope on the person next to him - another admiral. Although Arthur could only see his back, something seemed strangely familiar. And then the admiral turned and Arthur nearly choked. ''Father...'' he whispered. Because right there, next to the commander of the enemy armada, was Admiral Uther Pendragon, ready to hunt his only son down and sink his ship into the sea.

It cut him to see his father thus, but it hurt less than he had imagined it would, and Arthur acknowledged that he had chosen his own family a long time ago. He felt as if the last shackles of expectation and the propriety of his education fell away.

''Let's show these bastards what a sailor is!'' he shouted, stubbornly keeping his eyes trained on the horizon.

The ships drew nearer, and Arthur realised how close they were to firing distance. He didn't look for his father anymore, he gave the Excalibur reign to fly over the waves, steering straight for the break between the two approaching lines. The other captains finally seemed to realise what he was attempting, and those level to him turned their ships around to face the Excalibur with their broadsides. But Arthur could see already that they weren't close enough yet. They fired, but, just like he had known, the impact of the cannon balls sent water flying a good length away from them.

The ships furthest in the line didn't make the same mistake but stayed the course, trying to cut the Excalibur off. As they came closer and closer, Arthur knew this would be a tight fit.

''Ready the cannons, and fire at my command!'' Arthur yelled. ''We might have to clear the way a little.''

He could see the other ships were ready to fire as well, but they weren't in a good shooting position, the angle too shallow to fire a broadside. The ship on their portside fired from their prow, but the shot still fell short. The other captain on their starboard side seemed to know though that this had become a race instead of a hunt and didn't bother.

The gap between the ships was closing, but the Excalibur was almost there.

''Arthur...'' Leon's voice was strangled, his eyes trained on the ships, that were up to a few dozen yards now.

''This might become a tight squeeze,'' Arthur said lightly, eyes never leaving the course, hands steady on the wheel.

Ten yards, five... Arthur saw the rifles trained on them from the gunwale of the other ships, a cannon shot from the starboard vessel missed them by a hairbreath. Then the point of their prow was level with the enemy ships.

There were gunshots, but Arthur hardly registered them, as the Excalibur edged in between the other ships like a key in a lock.

''Now!'' Arthur shouted. ''Fire!''

The Excalibur fired a volley from both sides, straight at the enemy vessels. At this close range they were easy prey, and the cannon balls ripped the hulls apart, debris flying everywhere. Arthur saw the main mast from the starboard vessel fall, but it hit the water behind the Excalibur's stern. They were through.

As the wreckage of the two ships sank into the water behind them, the Excalibur flew ahead with full speed, gaining advantage on the rest of the ships as they took up the chase. But Arthur knew that they weren't out of the fray by a long shot, and they had to loose their pursuers if they wanted to make it to Port St. James safely.

''Land ho!'' Owain shouted then, and a short while later Arthur could see the first island ahead. The other ships were still in close pursuit, and this was their only escape route.

''What do you think?'' Arthur asked Leon quietly. ''Will it be enough?''

''Maybe throw out a few of the thirty-two-pounders? They will make more of a difference than the spoons and plates, and we'll still have the lighter cannons.''

Arthur nodded. ''Do it.''

''Aye.''

The archipelago loomed ahead of them, and Arthur was well aware that if their draught was too high, they would be stranded and then all would be lost. But they had to risk it. It was their only chance.

The Excalibur was ploughing into the surf straight ahead, and Arthur threw a look over his shoulder to see if the other vessels dared to follow them. The other captains seemed to know the risks and the impossibility of success though, and veered around.

The Glory of England came rushing towards them at top speed and Arthur turned around fully towards the ship, raising his chin and glaring over the water-filled distance, at where he knew his father was probably watching him.

And then the Glory veered as well, and Arthur's crew cheered.

''Reef the sails!'' Arthur shouted. ''We don't want to be too fast all things considered.''

The next hours were tense, as the Excalibur glided through the shallow waters, but then the sea opened again at the other side of the archipelago, and the Excalibur gathered speed under full sails. The sea stretched in front of them to the horizon, no other ships in sight, and Arthur let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding.

''Set a new course for Port St. James,'' he told Leon as he relieved him at the helm. ''We have no more time to spare.''

 _I'm coming, Merlin,_ he thought as he stumbled down from the aft deck exhausted. _Don't give up, I' coming!_

''It's coming, Gaius,'' Merlin whispered from where he was huddled on the floor. ''I think it's time.''

''What?'' Gaius stepped fully into Merlin's cell. ''But the hundred days aren't over, yet.''

Merlin laughed through the cramping pain in his stomach. ''I don't think she cares about that, Gaius.'' He looked up at his friend, trying to blink away the sweat that was running down his temples. ''Believe me. It's time.''

Gaius came over and crouched down before Merlin. ''Are you sure?'' he asked, helping Merlin up into a sitting position.

Merlin nodded. ''Yeah. I am.''

Gaius tutted and then pulled up Merlin's shirt, feeling and palpating Merlin's belly, his face turning into a worried frown. He didn't look at him though, until Merlin finally took hold of Gaius' wrists.

''Gaius. We both know what has to happen. You told me right at the beginning, remember? I know you'll have to cut her out.''

Gaius finally met his eyes then, and Merlin had never seen him so doubtful and uncertain. ''Merlin, I know I said so, but the truth is... I have no idea how this will go. I have no idea what I will find.''

Merlin squeezed the hands of his old friend. ''Don't worry so much. It will be okay. I know it. I can feel it. This is magic after all, yeah?''

''But you are so weak already... I'm worried... Merlin I'm worried you won't be able to recover.''

Merlin smiled. ''That's not really important though, is it? My time has been running out for a while now. What's a day more or less? This isn't about me anymore. It's about her. Only about her.''

Then another cramp hit him, and he balled his fists, panting. ''Why do I even have contractions?'' he asked. ''It's not like I can do anything about getting her out.''

''It's... it's important for the baby,'' Gaius explained, his voice shaky but obviously glad to concentrate on something he knew. ''It's good for her lungs, she'll breath better for it.''

''Okay. Then I guess there's no time but the present, right?'' Merlin tried to smile, but he couldn't deny that he was worried too. Not even so much for himself, but for his daughter. ''If you don't mind... I'd rather do it now.''

''Of course.'' Gaius seemed to collect himself with some effort, grunting when he got up on stiff legs. ''I will prepare everything and be back soon.''

The door fell shut behind Gaius and Merlin breathed a sigh of relief. ''Soon,'' he mumbled at his daughter when there was another sharp kick against his abdomen followed by a cramp that left him panting again. ''Soon, sweetheart. Just a little bit more patience. It will all be over soon.''

Merlin had not thought about the circumstances of him giving birth all that much. His brain had always got stuck at the cutting-out part. He had to admit though, that he would not have imagined this moment to happen right here in the dank and stinking cell, with nothing but a thin blanket between him and the cold stone floor. The authorities had refused to let Gaius move him to somewhere more clean and comfortable, or even to just relieve him of the chains and manacles. So Gaius had brought his instruments, blankets and a bowl with hot water down to the dungeons. He had also brought Alice, and over the course of the next hour Merlin would be very glad for it.

Alice was a kind woman. She took Merlin's hand in hers and told him in a soothing voice that he needn't worry and that everything would be alright. He had not known himself how much he needed to hear that until then, and Gaius was too distraught and worried himself to be the source of this easy comfort.

The contractions had become worse, and at least to Merlin it felt as if they were getting longer too. He actually held on to the chains running up to a ring in the wall above him, to bear down on the pain, trying to breathe the way Alice told him to.

Then came the part he'd been scared off since Gaius had first mentioned it, casually, back in his working chamber what felt like a lifetime ago.

''I've got to cut now,'' Gaius said after he had doused Merlin's belly in what smelt like cheap rotgut, and even though his voice shook, the thin blade in his hand was steady.

Alice gently pressed a short, smooth stick into his mouth. ''You might want to bite down on that, dear,'' she said with a sympathetic smile. ''This is gonna hurt.'' She swept a hand over Merlin's sweaty brow. ''But you've done wonderfully so far. I know you can do this too.''

Merlin took a deep breath and nodded. He was ready.

The pain that followed was sharp and sudden, and it ripped a scream from Merlin's throat without his consent or participation. He pressed his eyes closed, feeling warm tears trickle from their corners, and just tried to breathe, breathe through the pain and the fear, squeezing Alice hand as if it was the only thing keeping him from drowning. _Just like when he held on to me. He didn't let me go. I can do it too. For him and for our child._

And then Alice gasped next to him and Merlin had to prise his eyes back open to see what had her so startled. Merlin's eyes widened when he saw the golden light which was flooding the dark cell, bathing it in a warm glow. The pain that had him paralysed only seconds ago drifted away to the recesses of his mind, as Merlin watched, completely stunned, how the light seemed to spill from his own guts, trailing from the tiny creature Gaius was holding in his hands. Merlin could just see pink, wet skin and a shock of black hair and the golden thread of magic that was still connecting her to Merlin. Then the thread suddenly snapped, and there was a wail as his daughter took her very first breath.

''Congratulations,'' Alice said, her voice full of pride and joy.

Merlin, though, had only eyes for his daughter. For this small person that was his and his alone. He reached out with shaking hands, not even realising how weak he was until he tried to lift his arms. Gaius smiled at him with tears in his eyes as he handed her over to him, and Merlin almost didn't hear the whispered, ''Well done, my boy.''

The old man then went back to work on Merlin's wound, mumbling something about how he'd have worried a lot less if the texts had mentioned that a Dragon Lord's magic would take care of this. So apparently his magic had not left him yet, but Merlin didn't really pay attention. He was completely wrapped up in the small miracle in his arms.

His daughter was tiny but obviously strong, and as soon as she came to rest against Merlin's chest she seemed content, blinking up at him with curious blue eyes that were the colour of the sea and the sky and everything between. Arthur's eyes.

''Hello little one,'' Merlin croaked, stroking over the soft cheek and the downy hair, touching the tiny hands with the tiny, wrinkled fingers, delighted when they immediately took hold of his own. Merlin smiled through his tears, because this little being was precious and certainly the most beautiful thing he had ever seen. ''I'm your father,'' he whispered to her. ''And I love you very, very much. You have to always remember that, yeah?''

He kissed her then, breathed her in and held her, his sweet little girl. His for only a moment in time but forever burrowed deeply into his heart. He had not known that such a love was possible. Merlin cried, but it were happy tears because his daughter was alive and would grow up into a beautiful, strong woman, he was sure of that. When he was gone, she would still be here, a little part of him, forever connected to his soul.

''Be happy, okay?'' he told her. ''And don't ever let anyone stop you from reaching for the stars. Don't shy away from what you want more than anything. Don't ever be afraid. I love you.''

Merlin held his daughter close, talking softly to her until it was time to part. Gaius stroked a hand over his hair in a gesture Merlin imagined his father would have done, had he lived. The old man opened his mouth as if to say something, but then shook his head and, when he turned away, Merlin could see the tear tracks on his wrinkled cheeks. Alice had wrapped his daughter in a soft cotton blanket, and Merlin gave her one last kiss on the forehead.

''What shall she be named?'' Alice asked, and Merlin swallowed against the lump in his throat.

''Ygraine,'' he said.

Alice nodded and gave him a last smile. Then the door fell shut behind her, and Merlin was finally alone.

The crew of the Excalibur had finally made landfall in the evening of the twenty-fourth day of their journey, and Arthur had not wasted any time to let down a long boat that would carry him to the shore. He had put Leon in charge of the ship and had taken only a small group of men with him, Gwaine, Percival and Lancelot - because his friend had insisted that Merlin might need a doctor. Arthur had bitten down on any teasing words about Lancelot only wanting to see Guinevere then.

Truth be told Arthur had not thought much ahead how his grand rescue would actually proceed, his only urge had been to hurry, his worst fear in finding out that he'd been a week, a day, an _hour_ too late.

They obviously had not been able to make for Port St. James, but instead had taken shelter in the same hidden bay they'd laid the last time. So after Arthur and his men had reached the shore, they'd made their way to the port town on horse back, riding through the night.

''You sure we'll find her at her father's?'' Arthur asked Lancelot for what he knew was probably the third time already. They stood huddled in a hidden corner of a small alley, the creaking sign announcing the towns smithy just a couple of dozen yards further down.

''Yes. She told me that her mother had passed away a few years ago, so that's why she has to take care of her father. She'll be there. I'm sure of it.''

''Well then, let's go.''

''Arthur, wait. It's awfully early, don't you think?''

Arthur looked to the east where the first light of dawn was just tinting the sky, and frowned. ''It's not like we have time to spare. Better risk waking her up now, than waiting till the whole town rises,'' he said. ''Gwaine and Percival will wait here. Lancelot, you're coming with me.''

Arthur silently crept along the shadows towards their destination, knowing Lancelot would follow. When he reached the smithy he saw that there was actually light already, its warm glow falling through the curtains in front of the small window. Arthur only hesitated for a second before he softly knocked on the door.

The man who opened the door was young, his skin the colour of the soil of Arthur's home country, and his dark eyes suspicious.

''What do you want?'' he asked, shielding the room beyond with his body.

''I'm sorry to have disturbed you at this hour, Sir,'' Arthur said with a small bow. ''But I'm looking for Guinevere. I've been assured that I would find her here.''

The man raised his eyebrows and, if possible, his eyes became even more hostile. ''What do you want from my sister?'' he asked, the threat eminent in his voice.

''It's a matter of greatest urgency and importance. It concerns a mutual friend.''

''Captain Pendragon?''

It was Guinevere's voice that came from deeper inside the house, and Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. The eyes of the man in front of him widened in recognition of his name, and he half turned towards the inside of the house.

''Let him in Elyan,'' Guinevere said, her voice closer now and, with a long ascertaining look, the man – Elyan – stepped aside to grant them entrance.

Arthur stepped over the treshold. He'd had to duck his head a little, and when he straightened up again he immediately caught side of Guinevere, and his breath caught.

Because right there in Guinevere's arms was a baby. Tiny and wrinkled. Barely a day old if Arthur had to venture a guess. And it wasn't hers, of that Arthur was sure. The child's skin was pale, and the black hair, smooth and soft looking.

Arthur couldn't speak. He stepped forward like she was pulling him in by a rope, until he was right in front of her. Her and the baby.

''She has your eyes,'' Guinevere said with a small smile.

She had. But everything else-

''She has Merlin's ears,'' Arthur croaked, unable to turn his eyes away from the child. His child. There was no question about it in his mind, however impossible it should seem, that this beautiful little creature was his and Merlin's.

His hands shook when he reached out, and his voice wavered. ''Can I...?''

Guinevere nodded, and then placed the baby in the crook of his arm. She weight almost nothing, and Arthur wondered if that was normal. She – his daughter - seemed so incredibly vulnerable and breakable, like the most precious treasure. She blinked up at him, almost as if she were frowning and then yawned widely. Her eyes closed and her little mouth pulled into a familiar pout before she buried her face into Arthur's chest, apparently content and ready to go to sleep.

''Her name is Ygraine.''

Arthur looked up at Guinevere, and felt the wetness of tears trail down his cheek. Because he had been given the most precious gift, but at the same time fate had cheated him. Had ripped the man, Arthur had finally allowed himself to admit he loved more than he had known was possible, away from him.

''Merlin...'' he whispered, because he needed to know. He needed to know when and how, every gruesome little detail, as if that could give him penance for failing Merlin, for being too late.

''Arthur...'' A hand gripped his arm then, and Arthur saw that Gwen's eyes were filled with tears as well. ''He's not... he's not yet...''

The hope that rushed through Arthur's veins was almost painful, burning like a sweet poison. ''He's not... he lives?''

Gwen nodded. ''Tomorrow. The execution is set for tomorrow.''

It was time. Merlin had known this morning was coming for a hundred days. His last morning. He had raged, and cried and begged at deities he didn't even really believe in, but now, at the end, he was just scared. Scared and very, very alone. He'd said his goodbyes the evening before, to Gaius and to Gwen. But he had not been allowed to see his daughter again.

When the door to his cell opened for what would be the final time, Merlin was standing. It took him some effort, but he managed it. Whatever else, he would walk to the pyre on his own two feet with his head held high. He would not die as a pathetic mess. He would stand tall.

He stumbled when the guards dragged and pushed him through the dim corridors and up the steps to the courtyard of the fortress. Then he stepped out, into the early morning light, and there was the sun and the sky, almost too blinding after the darkness of his cell. He had to blink as his eyes teared up from the brightness, but it was still incredible to feel the sun on his skin again after all this time.

Then he saw the pyre.

It had been erected in the middle of the courtyard. A sturdy looking pole in the middle of a pristinely stacked pile of wood. The place he would die. Merlin swallowed. Trying hard to keep his breathing steady, he slowly made his way forward, supported by the guards on either side of him. He was shaking like a leaf, and his legs were hardly able to carry him, but he made it.

Finally, he was leaning against the cool wood and felt his arms being pulled back and shackled to each other on the back of the pole. He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of wood and fresh air. The sky was a bright blue, so impossibly far above him, and Merlin had to think of Arthur again. With eyes just as blue, and just as far away and unreachable to him as the sky. He wanted his last thoughts to be of that. Of Arthur's eyes, the same colour as Ygraine's. Of the two people he loved with all his heart.

When his sentence was read once more, Merlin didn't listen. He just stared up at the sky.

Two men with torches came forward then, and Merlin looked at the flames that would soon consume him. It was time.

The torches were lain against the pile of wood surrounding him and the flames started to lick up against the logs. Merlin could already feel the heat, the wood smoke filling his mouth and nose and making his eyes tear even more until he could see nothing but a blur of smoke and flickering flames and Arthur. Arthur's eyes looking at him, concerned and worried, and Merlin smiled because that was exactly what he had wanted, and the illusion was so vivid and beautiful as if Arthur was right there in front of him.

''Merlin.''

This even sounded like Arthur's voice, Merlin thought dizzily, immediately wishing his mind would come up with more of this wonderful figments.

''Merlin, do you hear me?'' A hand grabbed his chin with gentle force, pushing his head up, and Merlin blinked in confusion, because he could feel the warmth of the touch, the gentle pressure and the roughness of the callouses that had been so familiar to him. Either his mind was providing him with a very detailed illusion, or-

''Arthur...?''

The blond man in front of him sagged a little in relief. There was a sensation of something brushing Merlin's mouth, Arthur's thumb maybe, and then he vanished from Merlin's sight. He felt the tugging on his wrists and heard the clanging of metal, and then his wrists fell free from the manacles and chains and it was... the sensation made his head spin, like breaking through the surface after an eternity and finally being able to breathe again. He staggered forwards, his own legs still too weak to carry him, but Arthur was there to catch him against his chest.

''You came...'' Merlin said wonderingly, looking up into Arthur's sweaty, soot-smeared face.

''Of course I did.''

''I didn't think you would,'' Merlin admitted.

Arthur pressed Merlin against him then, lifting him up in his arms, and Merlin wanted to protest that he was no blushing maiden, he really did, but it felt so nice to rest against Arthur's chest, and he was so tired. Arthur stumbled and staggered down the pyre, and Merlin distantly realised there was more fire in the courtyard, and the clanging of swords as people were fighting. He thought he saw Gwaine, but then Arthur rushed them through an archway and they left the thick of the battle behind.

When Arthur lowered him into a small boat, Merlin grabbed his hand and squeezed it, still feeling as if he was walking through a dream. ''I can't believe you really came for me.''

''''Merlin...'' Arthur croaked, and his eyes were glistening. ''Just... I was wrong, okay?''

''Yeah?''

''Yes.'' Arthur nodded, and then he leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss against Merlin's lips. ''All the trouble... you're worth it,” he whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Epilogue**

Merlin woke up to the gentle rolling of the sea, warm sunlight ticking his nose. He blinked his eyes open and frowned at the ceiling for a moment, because he had definitely seen it before, but it seemed to somehow be further away than it should be. He rolled his head to the side and his breath caught in his chest. There, on the other side of the room, in the golden sunlight filtering through the glass of the aft windows, sat Arthur in what looked like an old rocking chair. His white shirt was open at the front, and in the crook of his arm lay their daughter, sleeping with a finger in her mouth and her face pressed into her father's broad chest. Arthur was smiling down at her but maybe he had felt Merlin's eyes on him, because he looked up then, right at Merlin, and Merlin felt as if his gaze pierced him all the way down to his very soul.

For a while they just watched each other silently. Merlin had no idea what Arthur was thinking, and he was too afraid to ask. Arthur got up then and came over to where Merlin, he now realised, was lying on a mattress on the plain wooden floor.

''What happened to your furniture?'' Merlin asked with a small, slightly nervous laugh.

''I threw it over board.''

''Oh.'' Merlin frowned. ''Because... you didn't like it anymore?'' That seemed a bit wasteful.

The laugh that exploded from Arthur's chest was surprised but delighted, and he shook his head in fond amusement. ''It's good to see you haven't changed all that much. You're still a bit of an idiot.''

Merlin scowled, and glared at Arthur at least a little when he sat down next to him on the floor, all easy grace and obnoxious smile. ''Well you're still a prat,'' Merlin said accusingly, and then jumped when something poked him in the ribs.

''What-?''

He looked up only to see the golden light fade from his daughter's eyes, as she snuffled and cuddled back against Arthur. Merlin's eyes widened, but Arthur only grinned.

''She doesn't like you talking to her father like that,'' he said smugly.

Merlin scoffed and rolled his eyes, but a second later he froze when Arthur's words sank in. He looked back at the smiling blond man, hope and surprise warring in his chest. ''Her... her father?'' he asked.

Arthur eyebrows crept up to his hairline. ''She's my daughter, isn't she _Mer_ lin? Don't you dare take her away from me!''

The words, said with Arthur's usual commanding arrogance, nevertheless held a note of worry and uncertainty that Merlin had not deemed possible. He couldn't quite grasp the implications, whether Arthur really meant-

''I didn't... I wouldn't...'' Merlin stuttered.

Arthur just looked at him serious and determined, and then reached out with his free hand to stroke his thumb down Merlin's cheek to the corner of his mouth, letting it linger there.

''I can't believe you're making me ask you twice, Merlin. But I will. I will keep asking you until you say yes.''

He raised his gaze from Merlin's lips to meet his eyes, and there it was all laid bare for Merlin to see: Arthur's need and hope and longing, the earnestness and the commitment.

''Yes,'' Merlin said breathlessly before Arthur could speak again, reaching for Arthur's hand and the second chance fate was offering him. ''To whatever you'll ask me the answer is yes. It will always be yes.''

Arthur's answering smile was stunned at first, but then broad and joyful, creasing up his whole face. ''Why, Mr. Emrys, I hope you know what you're offering,'' he said, his smile turning devious.

Merlin swallowed audibly, but it was more in eager anticipation then fright, and when Arthur pulled him in for a deep and filthy kiss, making shivers run down his back, Merlin gave as good as he got.

Trust Arthur to take advantage of his compliance, Merlin thought, smiling against the blond man's mouth, he really needed to be more on his guard in the future. Arthur Pendragon was a pirate after all.


End file.
